


Just Desserts

by thaliachaunacy (thalialunacy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-06
Updated: 2007-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thaliachaunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The epic one with the eclaires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Once, in very late 2002, there was a vaguely-employed college graduate of twenty-two named Thalia. Thalia had a lot of time on her hands and a superbly fangirly enthusiasm for her newly discovered hobby: the Harry Potter fandom.
> 
> So Thalia started a story. Ron/Hermione, because that's all she knew, and PG-13, because that's all she dared think of writing. The plan was four or five fluffy chapters involving chocolate, sexual tension, and the nice, happy, snoggy ending.
> 
> Only, somewhere along the line, a few months and several chapters later, she got distracted by other ships, other stories, other places in the fandom. The characters whined, balked, came back way after curfew, then flat-out threw a coup.
> 
> So she shut them in a box and tried to ignore their indignant (and often naughty) squeaking.
> 
> When she found them a year later, under a dusty, unfinished Arthur/Lucius fic, they were no longer the same characters and she was no longer the same writer. She considered giving up the whole damn dumbshow, but found herself far too attached to her little troublemakers to give them that sort of satisfaction.
> 
> Much toil was had then, much pulling hair and gnashing of teeth. There was editing, cutting, pasting, spitting on keyboards, threats of deletion, actual deletion of whole chapters, thinly veiled hatred, and long periods of cold shoulders from both parties.
> 
> It wasn't pretty. But it's over now, three and a half years later, and they're all alive and well.
> 
> Mostly.
> 
> All she asks is that you be gentle. And remember that we were all once fangirls.

"Eclairs!"

The familiar handwriting sprawled across the page in an unfamiliar way, as if the writer had been daydreaming lovingly about parading desserts, not merely taking notes in class.

Ron stared down at page three hundred and ninety four of _Bildred the Brave: One Goblin’s Army_ , borrowed from Hermione after his copy had an unfortunate encounter with the boys’ washroom. He held it up to the light and squinted, turning it this way and that, but no matter how he blinked at it, eclairs still had nothing to do with Bildred, goblins, wars-–or even wizarding, for Christ’s sake. Ron doubted most wizards, especially British ones, knew that eclairs existed. Ron only knew because of his gregarious fancy for anything dessert-related and his dad’s boisterous fancy for anything Muggle-related. And while it’s true that Ron paid far less attention in class than Hermione, he would most definitely remember any mention of eclairs.

So, he deduced, Hermione likes eclairs. But more than that, Hermione _daydreamed_ during _class_ about _eclairs_.

Quite an epiphany, all things considered. It blew two known truths out of the water: one, that Hermione didn’t like sweets, and two, that Hermione always paid attention in class, or at least would never stray so far as to doodle in her text book.

Yet there it was.

He quickly scanned the rest of the pages for further references, perhaps different desserts, but disappointingly found none. He sat back in his chair. Just what he could do with this information, he wasn’t sure. But, as Fred and George so sagely advised all who asked, the funniest jokes are simply those with the best timing.

And he smiled.

***

"Hermione, do you ever daydream in class?"

He asked it with an innocent look on his face, as if he had just thought it up to ask whoever would listen. The common room was filled with Gryffindors attempting not to drown in class work.

She looked quickly up at Ron from her potions paper, glanced at Harry, then, with a look of disdain, went back to writing. "Honestly, Ron. I’m only human."

"Is that a yes?" Ron tried to hide his surprise at how easily she answered.

"I suppose." She continued writing and kept her gaze on her nearly-completed scroll.

"An admission of guilt!" He did not, however, attempt to hide his glee at said answer. "Ms. Perfect Head Girl Granger admits to having un-sanctioned thoughts when she should by all logical rules be—"

"Oh, _do_ shut up!"

He grinned wickedly at her, but followed orders, resuming his own Potions paper—consisting thus far of his name and an opening sentence—with a hint of a smile and a plan forming in his mind.

***

"Mr. Weasley?" A faint voice gently tugged at him from afar.

"Mr. Weasley!" Suddenly much closer, the voice yanked a little harder.

"MR. WEASLEY!"

Ron blinked. Professor McGonagall looked down at him over her glasses, her cheeks tinged pink from yelling. "Can you relay to me _any_ topics of which I've spoken in the last forty minutes?"

Ron knew she had him. He gave her his best shit-eating grin. "Absolutely, ma’am-–you told us how to transfigure Brussels sprouts into eclairs." He heard Hermione’s little gasp but resisted the urge to look her way.

He could have sworn he saw a corner of McGonagall mouth turn up in amusement. "Only in your wildest fantasies, Mr. Weasley."

Ron seriously doubted she knew anything about his wildest fantasies.

McGonagall gave him one last glare, then drifted off, continuing her lecture. He let himself slide back into one of his favourite daydreams…something about...eclairs...and the female form...

"Ron! For God’s sake, Ron! Not here!"

Ron blinked. The rest of the class trickled past him on their way out of class. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. "No need to ask you if you daydream in class. No need to ask what about, either, if that–-" he glanced down pointedly "—and the look on your face are any indication. If Hermione had any idea—"

Ron lunged at him, cheeks red, stupid grin on his face, ready to pelt him into next year—

"If I had any idea about what?"

Ron’s ears started to burn and his mind raced. He quickly attempted to shield himself with his books while giving Hermione an innocent look. She looked at him, blinking. Harry looked from one the other and laughed out loud. "Ron and I were just discussing daydreams–-" Ron shot him a glare "-–and wondering if you would still associate with us if you realized just how often he ignores lectures."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Old hat, honestly." She noticed the book Ron held firmly in front of his mid-section. "Ron? Is that my book?"

He glanced down and reddened further. "Y-yes?"

She looked up at the heavens with a sigh. "Aren’t you done with it yet? The paper was due days ago..."

"Er..." This wasn’t part of the plan. He couldn’t give it back yet...especially right now..."Just...er...gimme a sec." And he dashed off towards the boys’ washroom.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, confusion turning to comprehension. One look at Harry’s grin confirmed it. She flushed slightly, turned her nose up and strode away, muttering. "Unbelievable...ignoring a professor for _that_...Eclairs...Hmpfh..."


	2. Opening Gambit

Ears still red, but feeling much more relaxed, Ron checked that the coast was clear and scuttled up to his dormitory, books still in tow.

"Honestly, Ron, you’re the worst sneak." Harry smirked at Ron from the doorway. Ron groaned.

"Listen–-"

Harry held his hand up, shaking his head. "No, no, don’t fret, your secret is safe with me." Ron let out a breath. "As long as you tell me what you’re going to do with that book of hers." Harry raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Nothing like _that_ , you silly prat."

"Well, what, then?"

Ron sighed. Time to modify the plan, apparently. "Look here," he said, pointing to the scribbled word on page 394.

Harry had to chuckle. "So you think Hermione has some sort of secret passion for fluffy desserts?"

Wasn’t it obvious? "Well ... yes."

Harry looked impatient. "And?"

Ron flustered slightly. "And I was thinking about having a little fun with it."

Comprehension dawned on Harry. "So _that's_ what made you so–-" He grinned. " _Cheerful_ in McGonagall’s class today. Dreaming of Hermione covered in desserts again?"

This time Harry didn’t escape a brawl for his cheek, and unfortunately for him, Ron’s sibling-filled childhood and tall personage gave him a definite advantage.

"Wait! Wait!" Harry yelled before Ron completely flattened him. "She knows!"

Ron stopped short mid-throw.

" _What?_ " He even sounded panicked to his own ears.

"She knows! When you sprinted to the washroom, she glared at me and muttered something about eclairs."

Ron groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Why does that woman have to be so bloody brilliant?"

Harry chuckled. "Because otherwise your life would be no fun."

Ron’s eyes snapped open. "I’ve got it! I’ll just erase what she wrote—I’m sure there’s some spell, right? That’ll leave no trace?—and give it back to her! She’ll be so confused she won’t approach me about it—-you know how she hates to admit she’s doesn’t understand something."

Harry smirked. "Sounds brilliant, mate. Too bad she’s probably the only one who knows the right spell."

***

"Here you go, with no extraneous damage, I promise." Ron handed Hermione the Bildred book and walked past her to sit in an armchair by the common room fire, where he promptly pretended to busy himself with the latest issue of _Shot in the Dark: The Chudley Cannon Weekly Reader_. He surreptitiously watched Hermione quickly scan the pages of _Bildred the Brave_ and snap it shut in frustration. That was his cue. He closed his reader and looked over at her. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a barely-disguised look of bewilderment. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

"What?" Her gaze snapped over to him. "Oh-—um, no. I was-—I was just thinking—about the transfiguration paper I need to write."

"Ah, yes." Ron nodded sagely. "The one due in three months. Of course. Silly me."

She picked up her books and stood, glaring down at him with moxy that Ron found unerringly sexy. "Unlike _some_ ," she said emphatically, " _I_ have more in my life than _fantasies!_ " and marched off.

Ron watched her walk away, the familiar movements bringing a smile to his face. She was definitely unsettled. Perfect. Time to begin Phase 2.

***

"Hermione?" It sounded funny to whisper but Madam Pince was already irked enough at his mere presence in the library.

"What?" Hermione whispered distractedly, unwilling to tear her eyes away from her book.

"Can I—-er—-can I borrow your copy of the book for McGonagall’s class?" He tried to put on his best wounded puppy dog expression.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What happened to your copy? Another toilet mishap?"

Ron huffed. "If you _must_ know, we couldn’t afford to buy it for me, so I’ve been borrowing Harry’s when I can. And today I can’t."

Hermione’s expression immediately softened. "Oh, Ron, I’m sorry. Yes, of course you can. I think I’ll be fine in class today."

"Oh, please! You’d be fine in class six months from now!"

She blushed and waved the book at him to shush him. "Never you mind. Just get your work done and get it back to me."

"Fine." He shot her a teasing smile and left. When he got out into the hallway, he opened the book, just to check. The pages were blindingly new and definitely blank of student scribblings. Which was just fine with him.

***

Juvenile chatter bounced off the walls of the Great Hall, as it tended to do on Friday nights. Ron pretended to tuck in to his dinner, maintaining a facade resembling his normal reverence for eating while his free hand rested against his thigh under the table, his wand steadily pointed at Hermione's plate. He took a bite of potato, mumbled a spell, and waited.

Then he heard Hermione gasp.

"Ron!" He looked up at her with an inquisitive look on his face, as if shocked at her tone. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed to the eclair suddenly sitting on her plate. "Don't even _think_ of pretending you had nothing do with this!" she hissed at him in low tones. "I am _not_ daft!"

"Well, what?" he said matter-of-factly. "Thought it’d be a nice treat." She gave him a glare and opened her mouth to protest but he would have none of it. "Perhaps you should eat it before it—-I dunno, mysteriously disappears." He smiled at her and went back to his own meal—-until a bit of toast literally flew off his fork and landed somewhere in the vicinity of the Slytherin table. He looked up, genuinely surprised, and saw Hermione’s face dangerously close to his, her own wand out, her gaze intent & angry.

"If you think that you can parade around, mocking me for _one_ lousy indiscretion-—and believe me, I regret ever lending you that book—-then you’ll simply have to _grow up_ because I _couldn’t care less_. And if you’ll please excuse me, I have work to do."

And with that she left. Ron tried to think, but it seemed his brain had just slammed headlong into a bowl of pudding.

"You okay, Ron?" Ron started. "You look kind of flushed." Harry smirked. "Too many chocolate-covered dreams?"

"Shut it!" Ron aimed the rest of his muffin at Harry’s head and chucked it hard.

Harry caught it and laughed. "Never throw anything at a Seeker, mate. "

***

She gave him a suspicious look and didn’t touch the Transfiguration book he placed in front of her.

"I didn’t hex it, Hermione."

She blinked, than smiled sugary sweetness at him. "Thought never crossed my mind." She picked the book up and put it in her bag, refocusing immediately on the charms assignment in front of her.

Ron sat down in the nearest chair with his own bag of books, his eyebrows scrunched together. That wouldn’t work at all—he wanted to be there when she found what he’d written. "Er—Hermione?"

"What, Ron? Don’t you have any work of your own to do?" She didn’t bother looking at him.

Ron tried to think of something innocent he could say to get her to look at her Transfiguration book, but failed. He sighed. Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Never mind," he said dejectedly, going back to his own heaps of schoolwork.

All was not lost, however…Twenty minutes later, he heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath, looked up and saw her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Bingo.

She glanced at him but immediately looked down again, looking a little lost.

And all at once he couldn’t force himself to be catty with her. He looked around the crowded common room, leaned towards her, and said her name quietly. She flushed a darker shade of pink, took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye. He couldn’t quite think of what to say. "Listen—"

"No, Ron, don’t bother." She looked determined to seem unaffected. She reached for her quill and scribbled something in the book she was holding before handing it back to him. "If you’re so insistent on passing notes…Here." And she promptly settled back with her Potions book as if nothing was amiss.

Ron gaped at her, then glanced down at the Transfiguration book. A slow grin spread across his face.

At the top of the page in his hasty scribble was the message she’d just found: "...wonder if Hermione tastes as good as eclairs..." And below it, in her clear handwriting, was her reply.

"...better."


	3. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One line snagged unabashedly from The Princess Bride.

"She wrote _what?_ " Harry nearly dropped the handful of beetle wings he’d been counting.

Ron looked around quickly, but all the other students were busy working on their Acceleration Potions. He looked back at Harry. "Exactly. That’s what’s so brilliant about it—there was no cryptic girly nonsense." He sighed. "She’s perfect."

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s rather rapturous expression. Ron flushed and busied himself with their cauldron, sneaking a glance across the room, where Hermione was working with Neville. She hadn’t acted any differently in the past few days, and was always quite collected, as if she knew the answer to any question anyone could possibly ask her.

Ron was slowly going mad.

He couldn’t stand that she was being so damned nonchalant. He wanted to get under her skin. He wanted to get under more than that. He wanted to pin her up against a wall and get a taste—

"Ron!"

" _What?_ " Ron tried not to sound too annoyed at Harry’s reverie interference.

"I asked you a question!" Rom shrugged him off. Harry waggled a finger at him. "Be glad I wasn’t Snape."

Ron had to agree with that, hazarding a glance the way of the Potions master, who was far across the room. He looked back at Harry expectantly. "Well? What was the question?"

"I asked what you’re going to do now," Harry answered with a pointed look Hermione’s direction.

Ron faltered. "Oh—er—well, to tell you the truth…I have no idea."

"Staggering genius, you are." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so you’re wickedly talented with women all of the sudden?"

Harry put his hand on his heart. "Mortal shot, Ron! How can you say such a thing to your best friend?"

"Easily; you're dating my sister," Ron said with a grin."Seriously, though, what d’you reckon I should do?"

"I dunno. Drag her into an empty classroom and snog the daylights out of her?"

"Yeah, right. She’d kill me if I did something that wasn’t on her schedule."

"Perhaps."

Ron looked at him in surprise. "Perhaps? Do you know something I don’t?"

Harry smiled enigmatically then occupied himself with the potion. "Let’s see, two pinches of dried liver of newt…

"Harry!" Ron grabbed Harry’s arm. "Not fair!"

"Who said life was fair? Where is that written?"

"Bet Hermione could tell you."

Harry chuckled. "Probably."

"But back to the subject!" Harry attempted to look innocent. "Don’t even try it. I know where you sleep."

"Oh, all right." Harry sighed dramatically. "See, Hermione tells me things she doesn’t tell you…" Ron’s eyes widened. "…and although I’m not at liberty to say much, I can tell you that a little assertiveness is never a bad thing."

Ron let out a low whistle. "Really." It wasn’t quite a question.

Harry gave him a knowing look. "Girls are odd creatures."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You’re telling me."

***

"Ron? Do you want to play chess?" He looked up from his book, surprised, to find Hermione standing beside the common room table at which he was studying. She saw the look on his face and sighed as if this was her last resort. "I’m bored."

"What, not going to study for that Potions exam coming up in six months?"

She shot him a glare. "Oh, hush up."

He shrugged. Anything to get away from Divination work. He watched as she deftly set his book aside and replaced it with his chess set, sat down in the chair next to him and looked at him expectantly. His eyebrows scrunched together slightly. "Er—Hermione, it’s your go; you’re the white pieces."

She looked down. "Yes, well, sometimes you have to break the rules, Ron," she said, carefully keeping her gaze on the chess pieces. "I say it’s your go." And then she looked up at him.

With a jolt, he realized her intent. He hid his surprise, ignored the slighty-sick feeling in his stomach, and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, really?"

Her serious expression never wavered. "Absolutely."

He paused. His eyes flicked down to the chessboard and he moved his queenside bishop in a rare opening gambit. He looked back at her intently. "Good enough for you?"

A small smile flitted across her face and she concentrated on the chessboard. "We’ll see, won’t we?"

Ron tried to breathe normally.

Hot damn.

***

They sat next to each other at the table, Harry across from them. They had been studying in relative quiet for an hour or so, and Ron decided it was time to have a little fun. Keeping his gaze steadily on his Charms book, he reached his hand under the table and slowly ran a finger over Hermione’s lower thigh. He heard her sharp intake of breath. He chanced a look at Harry, who winked and pretended to busy himself with work.

Slowly, he traced his finger across to her inner thigh and upwards, under the fabric of her uniform skirt. He felt her tense, hold her breath for a few seconds, then, miraculously, draw her legs apart a fraction of an inch. But it was enough. He continued up as far as he dared, then went to the other thigh, running his palm along the skin he found there. Her body shifted and he sneaked a glance at her. Her eyes were focused on the book in front of her, but seemed a little wide, and her cheeks were most definitely flushed. He loved it. He could have continued for hours, curious about the soft warmth of her body and the way her breath hitched a little as she tried not to seem affected.

Harry coughed. "Oh dear, look at the time."

Ron glanced at his watch. It read ‘You’re going to be late!’ in green letters, which he knew from experience would turn into a red ‘You’re late!!’ in about two minutes. He stood up, a small apologetic smile gracing his face while Harry got ready to leave. "Harry and I’d best be off to Quidditch. See you in a bit." He gathered his own things and made to walk away, Harry a few steps ahead of him.

Her low voice caught him. "It isn’t nice to tease." She looked at him, and for a split second he saw something in her eyes like the hunger he felt. But it was gone in an instant and Ron started to wonder whether he’d had any affect on her whatsoever.

She waggled a finger at them. "Come back in one piece, the both of you."

Harry rolled his eyes at her with a smile on his face. "Oh, come off it. Nobody’s died in years, mum." She shot him a look and he left, chuckling. Hermione went back to her book, leaving Ron standing there, looking a little nonplussed. Then he smiled and looked around, reassuring himself that they weren’t in anyone’s line of vision. He walked up behind where she sat, knowing full well she heard him but chose to ignore him, and leaned his head down next to hers

"That wasn’t a tease," he whispered in her ear. "That was a promise."


	4. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits from _Snatch_ , _The Matrix_ , and _10 Things I Hate About You_.

"Hermione?" Harry ventured after seeing Hermione’s plate stay untouched. "You going to eat today?" Hermione looked quickly up at Harry and Ron, seemingly startled out of a daydream.

"Oh—-er—-I suppose I’m not hungry."

"You suppose?" Ron smirked. "You mean you actually don’t know?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Like I’ve tried to convince you before, Ron, I’m only human. I don’t have to have an answer for every inane question you ask."

He held up his hands. "All right, all right. Do what you want. We’re just trying to look out for your well-being; it’s our duty as your best friends, right, Harry?" Harry rolled his eyes in answer. Ron shook his head, returning to his food.

And nearly choked when he felt her hand warm on his thigh. He glanced over at her, but her gaze was still daydreamily focused on her plate of untouched food. _Bloody good actress, that one. Have to watch out next—-_

He quickly lost track of outside thoughts as her hand traced fire up his thigh. And beyond.

 _She’s not going for subtlety, that’s for damn sure._

His ears were roaring and his breath came out raggedly, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He wasn’t sure how much of this he was supposed to be able to take before highly embarrassing himself in front of the whole school. Or ravishing her right there on top of the lunch table. _Hmmm..._ He looked over at her, not hiding the glint in his eyes.

She gave him a pointed look and glanced at her watch. "Oh, my goodness," she said airily, "look at the time. I really must be getting on with my studies. I’ll be in the library if you need me." She nodded at Harry and picked up her bag as if to leave. Harry glanced at Ron, then busied himself with his food. Ron sighed, then attempted to do the same.

Until he felt her walk up behind him and lean down. Her breath warmed his neck and his stomach somersaulted as she whispered in his ear. " _That_ was a tease." She reached around him and set something on his plate, but he couldn’t quite focus on anything for a few minutes after she left. Harry’s snicker brought him back to his senses, and what he saw nearly killed him.

In the center of his nearly empty plate sat one perfect chocolate eclaire.

***

"Bloody hell. This is so ridiculous." It came out as a whisper, luckily for Ron. The hall full of bustling students didn’t notice Ron debating with himself about his best friend’s foolhardy—yet tantalizing—suggestion of a plan.

A plan which, in all honestly, Ron wasn’t sure he had the minerals to carry out. _Drag her into an empty classroom and snog the daylights out of her. Sure. Old hat. No problem._ He shook his head and decided Harry was a nutter.

Then he saw Hermione making her way down the hall towards the place where he stood. She was deeply ensconced in a book yet managing not to collide with anyone. _Harry may be nutters, but-–_

He wanted to.

 _Well, hell, Weasley. Let’s see if you’ve got those minerals._

He strode forward, snatched the book out of her hands and promptly led her down a smaller unused corridor.

"Ron?" She said his name incredulously. "What in Heaven's name are you doing? We have class in ten minutes!" Ron rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. "You can’t just drag me off somewhere and—-"

He stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the empty corridor and faced her. "For once in your life, Hermione, shush." He registered the indignant look on her face, found himself reaching up to touch her cheek for just a moment, then turned and walked further down the hallway, gripping her hand more tightly in his.

She stayed quiet, but he could feel the disagreeableness coming off of her in waves. He took in a deep breath. _If this backfires, I will pummel Harry._

 _...But I bloody well won’t quit now_. He kept walking to the end of the corridor. He pulled out his wand and muttered at the second door on the left, which opened with a creak then shut quietly behind them.

"Ron, I really don’t—-"

He turned and leaned towards her, not attempting to hide the wicked grin on his face, and Hermione found herself backed up against one wall of the room. He saw her cheeks flush and she opened her mouth to again protest. "Just _shush_ , Hermione!" He stepped as close as he could without actually touching her, so close he swore he could feel her heart beating, and looked down at her, taking everything in for as long as he could stand it.

She was so damn beautiful.

Her eyes were wide but they held onto his, and she darted her tongue out to lick her lips nervously. She let out a bewildered noise. "Do I have dirt on my nose or something?"

He smiled and took a few steps backwards, attempting to rediscover rational thought. Must stay suave. Time to show the ace. "Hold on." He pointed his wand to a dark corner of the room and muttered something that sounded like ' _accio chocolate_.'

Hermione blinked as a small box sprang into Ron’s hand. She put a hand on her hip. "What exactly are you playing at, Ron?"

Ron chuckled. "Frustrated, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened indignantly at the innuendo. "Frustrated? I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I don’t get ‘frustrated’ in that manner."

"Oh, really?" He smiled a slow smile and took a step towards her. She immediately tensed. He chuckled again and she glared at him, trying not to look flustered. "And I could never mistake you for someone else." He held her eyes and opened the small box, keeping it just out of her curious line of sight. She let out a frustrated noise and suddenly Ron had an image of a much younger Hermione stamping her foot when she didn’t get her way.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Don’t act daft, Hermione. You knew this was coming, being the brilliant witch you are."

She put on her best annoyed face. "I’m sorry; you’re going to have to be more specific. What exactly is ‘this’?"

Ron smiled slyly. "This," he said, "is simply—-" He watched her watch his hand dip into the small box. "–-inevitability." And out he pulled an eclair.

She took in a sharp breath but immediately put on a straight face and looked at him, as if the sweet in his hand was nothing interesting. "Quite a big word, Ron."

"I do pay attention in class occasionally."

She scoffed. "Occasionally. When you’re not fantasizing about women covered in various desserts." Her cheeks flushed but she bit her lip and put on a most stubborn face.

He paused, looking at her steadily. He felt his face warm, but took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I don’t fantasize about _women_ covered in chocolate, Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why, Ron, I had no idea."

He rolled his eyes, supressing an urge to stamp his own foot. "Hermione! I am trying to make a point here!"

She lost the teasing look and tilted her head up defiantly. "Then make it."

He faltered. _Bloody hell_. Obviously she planned on making this difficult for him.

 _Minerals, Ronald. Minerals._

He met her gaze pointedly. "I only fantasize about one woman. And I think you know that." She blinked. "They’re the best fantasies I’ve had, actually." He sighed and regarded the eclair with a small smile. "And, yes, you often happen to be covered in chocolate, I must admit."

Her eyes widened and he swore he saw some delight in them. Then they narrowed into a mocking glare. "During McGonnagall’s class! _That’s_ what you were thinking about!" She shook her head and tsked. "Boys."

He blinked. _Women are so bizarre_. But he was not deterred. Defensiveness was a tactic he could deal with. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You’re one to talk."

She bristled, clearly feeling the need to launch into a tirade. "Ron, this is getting very tiresome! You are so-—" She sputtered for a word.

He took a quiet step towards her. "Charming."

She found one. "—-Ridiculous! And—-"

He took another unnoticed step. "Wholesome."

She thought of another one quickly. "Troublesome!" she said emphatically. She met his eyes triumphantly-—and realized his sudden nearness. A small gasp came from her mouth, her lips forming a small ‘o’ as she looked anywhere but at him.

He smiled and held up the sweet. "Eclair, Hermione?" She blinked. "Better take me up on it, because I find it quite appealing myself—which I think you know—and I might not want to share." He slowly pulled the eclair into two pieces and offered one to her. She blinked again, then her eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

He watched her, reveling in having the upper hand.

The she got a wicked look on her face and reached for the proffered half-eclair. He watched as she slowly dipped a finger into the pastry filling and brought it up to her lips.

 _Oh dear sweet Merlin._

His face grew very warm and all other thought was banished from his mind as she slowly licked her finger clean. She brought her hand down but he couldn’t look away.

Her eyes were on him and a corner of her mouth quirked up. "Ron?"

He somehow managed to find his voice. "Yes?"

"Don’t you think we’ve had enough teasing?"

His heart fell arse over teakettle and he almost asked her to repeat herself. He must have had a blank look on his face because she laughed, a wonderful sound that cleared his head and brought him back to the brilliance of reality.

Her face was tilted up towards him, cheeks flushed and a small smile gracing her lips. He couldn’t help it—-He kissed her.

It felt slightly like diving off a cliff but tasted like vanilla cream. And something else, something he couldn’t do justice with words, so he kept his mouth on hers, tasting her over and over again. Thoughts slipped around each other, surfacing only occasionally. _Harry deserves a medal. This is unbelievable._ Heat rose and his whole body seemed alive in a new way.

Too soon it was over. He felt her pull away and put her forehead against his. "Class," she breathed.

He groaned but had to admit she was right. He looked at her, pouting a little, then backed away. "Fine." She looked at him teasingly and slipped out the door.

He stood for a moment in the empty room, willing his heart to slow. And willing himself never to forget what it had been like to kiss Hermione. He couldn’t stop smiling as he sauntered down the hall, relishing the ever-so-sweet eclair.

He saw her darting into the Charms classroom as he entered the deserted main hallway, licking the last bits of chocolate off his fingers. She stopped, hand on the doorknob, and spoke in a low voice. "So, Ron—-" She gave him a slow half-smile. "How did it taste?"

His ears warmed but he didn’t miss a beat. He shot her a wicked look. "Brilliant."


	5. Countered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Line from _Dogma_ included.

"Ron! Wake up!" Somebody was shaking him. Ron groaned and pushed the offender away, trying to squish himself back into his _wonderful_ dream about chocolate pudding and Hermione’s left—-

"Ron, you prat! We have a game in half an hour!"

Ron’s eyes sprung open and all thoughts of Hermione fled. "You’ve got to be joking." Then his eyes registered Harry in full Quidditch regalia. He groaned and put a hand over his face.

"Get your arse out of bed, Ron." The door slammed and Ron sat up, greeted by an empty room and a watch screaming _"You’re absolutely positively disgustingly LATE!!"_

"Bloody hell." He tumbled out of bed and into his Quidditch robes as quickly as he could, and managed to make it to the pre-game area in record time, still only half awake. The team was gathered round their pep-talking Seeker/Captain.

Ron walked up to the circle and stood beside his sister. "About time, Weasley," Ginny said in low tones. She smirked at him and poked him in the leg with her broomstick.

He grabbed the offending broomstick and pushed it back towards her. "Sod off, _Weasley_ ," he whispered in warning tones, "or I’ll tell your boyfriend you’ve been reading Hermione’s Muggle romance novels." Ginny shot him a murderous glare and quickly pretended to be deeply involved in Harry’s speech. Ron shook his head with a small smile. Harry would probably think it was charming, honestly—-like Ron did of Hermione owning the books in the first place—-but Ginny had a wider-than-average streak of the already severe Weasley pride.

Ron tried to listen to Harry’s talk, but his mind kept drifting back to bed and dreams. He shook himself mentally. _Quidditch. Must concentrate on Quidditch._ He focused on Harry just in time to catch the end of a speech he had heard numerous times in the past few years. "…because we _cannot_ lose this one, people. We have practiced very _hard_ for months, been out there in rain and wind, we work together better than any professional team out there, and we are most definitely-—"

"-— _the team that deserves to win_ ," Jo and Natalie intoned good-naturedly from within the team huddle.

Harry’s eyes widened and he stared at the two Chasers for a moment. Then he shook his head and looked around at the team. "All right then, so you know what to do—then let’s do it." He grinned and turned to walk onto the field. Ginny joined the other Chasers and followed him; Thomas and Bryant disappeared next, bats in hand. Ron took a deep breath and listened to the roar of the crowd. He couldn’t help but smile as he stepped out.

Sunlight blinded him for a moment, but as he kicked off and got into opening formation with the rest of the Gryffindors, his eyes adjusted and adrenaline kicked into high gear. He suddenly had a thought of Hermione and squinted into the stands for a glimpse of her, but Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, the quaffle was released, players were everywhere—and Ron’s only thoughts were of Quidditch.

***

"That was a bloody brilliant save, mate." Harry, his arm around his favourite Chaser, grinned at Ron. "We thought you’d had it with that bludger, and we didn’t have a chance with such a brilliant flyer working against us." Harry winced as Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Not that our Chasers aren’t absolutely stunning, of course." He looked at her cajolingly, practically batting his eyelashes. She rolled her eyes at him, but let him kiss her.

Ron tried to put on an annoyed face, but it was merely an attempt to hide his impulse to let out a very schmoopy sigh, which usually surfaced when he saw Harry and Ginny caught up in themselves. Contrary to popular opinion, Ron was all for Harry’s acquisition of his little sister—but it often brought up these pathetic romantic yearnings from out of nowhere. And that annoyed him to no end.

He cleared his throat. Ginny looked at him and laughed, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "You did me proud, big brother."

Ron flushed a bit. He did feel good about his performance, and would have accepted all the praise he could get—except for the fact that he was just as amazed as anyone that he’d managed to stay on his broom and block Ravenclaw’s brilliant final scoring attempt, leaving Harry open to catch the snitch. He shrugged and shook his sister off. "Couldn’t’ve won it without Harry, you know that." Ginny smiled but Harry rolled his eyes. Ron raised an eyebrow at them. "And, of course, my wee little sister has a wicked left hook shot." Harry’s mouth curved into a smile and he started to say something, but Ron guessed it would be lecherous and raised his hand to stop him. "Never mind. Let’s just get on with it. Off to the showers." He waved them away, then thought twice and shouted after them. "Separate showers!" Ginny grinned at him over her shoulder and Ron had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t going to follow his advice.

But he decided not to dwell on that. He started slowly towards the castle, enjoying the twilight on the darkening Quidditch stands. He had his own shower to take, his own woman to fantasize about. Maybe even do something about. It had been a week since their first encounter and Ron was slowly going mad. He somehow doubted she’d just hop into the shower with him, however. He grinned at the thought. Hermione stepping daintily out of her clothes and getting in the tub, complaining about the water temperature, looking good enough to—

"Ron?"

He spun around and squinted into the lengthening shadows of the field. Hermione stood beside one of the empty stands. He couldn’t quite make out her expression in the dark and he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say. "What are you doing out here?" was the first thing that came to him. He groaned inwardly. _Brilliant, Ronald._

She laughed softly. Sometimes he was sure she could read his mind. "Waiting for you."

He fought back the urge to grin. "Oh, really?" he said with an eyebrow raised, approaching her slowly. "Shouldn’t you be studying? We do have a rough test in Potions tomorrow."

The corner of her mouth turned up as she watched him draw nearer. "Ron, I’ve been ready for that test for days."

He stopped, inches from her. "All right, then; shouldn’t you be letting me study?"

She looked at him appraisingly, seemingly unaffected by his nearness. "You made me late for class, Ron. It’s time for a little turnabout."

These were delicious words. But he wasn’t going to let her have the upper hand straight away.

He chuckled. "Well, then, you’re out of luck, as I am brilliant enough to at the very least pass Snape’s exam, and I just played the best Quidditch game of my life. I’m afraid I’m invulnerable."

"Oh really?" Hermione looked pointedly at him and a smartass voice far back in his mind warned that he was in for it.

He ignored the voice. "Certainly."

Hermione shook her head and put a hand in her pocket. "First off, Ron, men are the far more vulnerable sex overall." She didn’t give him a chance to argue. "Second, you should be a bit more cautious about to whom you issue challenges. I happen to know exactly where you are vulnerable." She looked at her hand, keeping it closed around whatever she’d had in her pocket. It seemed about the size of a snitch from what Ron could tell, but he couldn’t see much in the twilight. He shifted his weight impatiently, and she looked at him and laughed. "Curious, Ron? It’s not dessert, if that’s what you’re surmising. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Slowly, she opened her hand. Ron had to lean in to see the small, green, lettuce-shaped lump she was holding, until his forehead was a mere centimeter away from hers.

"A brussel sprout, Hermione?" he said softly, trying not to be distracted by the feeling of her body so near to his.

She smirked at him and he almost lost his nerve and stepped back. "Is your memory that faulty, Ron? You brought this upon yourself, if you’ll recall."

Ron’s mind raced, then thudded to a stop as she pointed her wand at the vegetable and muttered something. She smiled at him triumphantly and held up an honest-to-gods eclair.

His respect for this woman grew exponentially. "You invented a spell?" He shook his head. "Of course you did. You’re bloody brilliant."

“It was merely a modification of an older spell I found last year while doing some research for Charms class...” Hermione trailed off at his small smirk, then regarded the eclair in her hand. "Must be a compliment to have someone swear about your intelligence," she said, then looked at him innocently and took a small bite out of the sweet.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. "It’s certainly a compliment when I do it," he answered, keeping his tone as casual as possible.

She examined the nibbled eclair, then dipped her finger into the creamy center. "Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect anything less cryptic and juvenile from a professional tease such as yourself." She held the sweetened finger close to her lips for a moment, then her eyes took on a wicked glint.

The corner of her mouth turned up. "You have such a foul mouth," she said, carefully touching his bottom lip with her cream-covered finger.

She lingered for the longest second, leaving a dab of vanilla that Ron immediately had to taste. Hermione watched him dart his tongue over his lip, her face flushing a shade of pink that made Ron’s stomach do cartwheels. He had to suppress the urge to pull her to the ground and ravish her right there on the cold field.

But he couldn’t give her the upper hand now, at such a crucial juncture. Instead, he ran his tongue over his lip with leisure, watching her intently. He was close enough that he could feel her breathing.

He smiled wickedly. "My mouth can be quite useful, however." He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t hide the desire in his gaze, but he refused to jump off the cliff first. The moment stretched taut between them. _Not giving in. I am not giving in. She is unbelievably gorgeous. I am NOT giving in._

Then she smiled. "Oh, damn it all." He barely had time to register her words before her lips touched his and the world made sense again.

This time it felt slightly like being caught in the ocean current. He reached a hand up to her cheek, as if to steady himself, and was delighted by the soft heat of her flushed skin. He kissed her again and again, long and sweet, shots of fire coursing through his body. She responded in kind, with as much ardour as she ever had in his fantasies. Her hands danced across his cheeks, his neck, snaked around his shoulders and pulled him to her. He went willingly, getting as close as he dared. His fingers tangled in her hair and he kissed her hungrily.

 _Good God, this is brilliant._

He pulled back, catching his breath, wanting to look at her, to take in her pink cheeks and beautiful mouth. She smiled a little smile at him, but her eyes betrayed a bit of uncertainty. "Everything all right?" she asked cautiously.

He grinned and dipped his head down, putting his lips next to her ear. "Better." She laughed softly and he leaned in, gently planting kisses along her jawline. Her laughter became a gasp that sounded suspiciously like his name, and a surge of heat cascaded through his body, headed for the land of no return.

Her hands touched his cheeks, pulled his lips back to hers, and he willingly partook. He kissed her thoroughly and deliberately, attempting to communicate everything he felt, everything she made him feel. One hand traveled down her arm to interlace fingers with hers, the other exploring where it would, caressing her back lovingly, even hedging shakily around to her sides and under her breasts. His mind whirled, a vortex of disbelief and absolute abandonment. He never wanted it to end.

Then he heard a whisper behind him. "I knew it."

He froze. It sounded like his sister.

There was another whisper. "Come on, we should go." That one definitely sounded like Harry.

Ron contemplated pretending he hadn’t heard, hoping that they’d leave so that he could keep with the snogging.

Unfortunately, before he got the chance to act on this notion, Hermione pushed him away. Rather hastily. He looked at her, surprised, but she ignored him, instead calmly rearranging her robes and smoothing her hair back to normal.

"Yes?" She looked at Harry and Ginny casually, as if she hadn’t just been in a very passionate embrace with the person standing not a foot to her right. Ron stomach suddenly sank and the wicked voice in his head piped up helpfully. _I told you you were in for it. You just thought I meant something else._

Ginny laughed softly. "We were looking after you; there’s quite a knees-up happening in Gryffindor and they’re starting to clamour for their game MVP." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "But we can go back and tell them you’re otherwise engaged, if you want."

"N-no!" Hermione said quickly, startling everyone. "I think this should stay between us," she said hastily, looking from Ginny to Harry with a mostly-disguised look of panic on her face. She laughed, the sound almost cutting through the surprised silence. "And I think a party sounds wonderful, don’t you?" She glanced at Ron quickly, her gaze skating around his face, never really looking at him.

 _See?_ the wicked voice cackled.

Ron’s heart began to thud in his ears.

Ginny studied Hermione, who stood with her arms crossed. Ron got the feeling his little sister knew something he didn’t. "All right then," she said cheerfully, "let’s get on with it. Come on, Hermione, I’ll walk up with you." She grabbed Hermione’s hand and started up the hill, sneaking a pointed look towards Ron and Harry over her shoulder while the older girl was otherwise occupied.

Harry seemed to get the hint, for he stayed back with Ron, regarding him hesitantly. "Er—Ron?

Ron looked at Harry reluctantly. "What?"

Harry frowned. "Are you all right?"

His mind felt like it was being squeezed into a very small space. "Guess."

Harry laughed dryly. "Right. That's not what you were expecting, is it?"

"No." Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Harry. What’s she playing at?"

Harry shrugged. Ron could tell he didn’t know what to say. A sour laugh escaped him. "She’s going to drive me mad."

Harry chuckled, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I know."

Ron paused. "Guess it’ll have to do," he said, his jaw clenched slightly.

Harry awkwardly tried to cheer him up. "Most people would pay to be in such a situation, you know—friends with snogging rights."

Ron had to smile at this. "True."

There was another moment of silence. Harry looked up towards the castle. "Ginny wasn’t kidding; everyone in Gryffindor is waiting for you." Ron didn’t reply. Harry tried another tack. "You have something better planned than butterbeer, fizzing whizbees and a hundred adoring fans?"

Ron laughed and threw his hands in the air. "Fine! On with it, then. I say we get drunk, because I’m all out of ideas."


	6. Re-Positioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There’s some femmeslash in here technically.

And drunk he planned to get.

He knew his sister would spike the already mildly-alcoholic butterbeer with some outrageous dark liquid. Ron had asked once, back when it was the twins getting Gryffindor liquored up, how anyone acquired what must have been 150-proof alcohol. "Magic," they had winked at him, as had Ginny the first time she’d done it. _Of course, why didn’t I think of that?_ Ron had given up asking.

His jaw set, he stepped through the portrait-hole after Harry, only partially prepared for the raucous welcome that greeted him. Sure, he’d seen Gryffindor throw some wicked parties, but it was still a bit unsettling to be pounced by obnoxiously cheering people bearing ale and sweets. Now if only he could get naked Hermione in here somewhere, it would quite literally be a dream come true.

 _Hermione._

Ron searched the room for her face, for her usual congratulatory smile and lightly disparaging remark about Quidditch obsessions. He was searching for some normalcy.

He found her sitting by the fire with Ginny, both holding mugs of some steaming drink. She smiled at him, and Ron felt a bit of the weight come off his shoulders. Perhaps, just perhaps, things would be all right. He smile back.

Then Ginny put her hand over Hermione’s and said something, and Hermione’s smile disappeared. She broke Ron’s gaze to take a drink from her mug. A rather long one, Ron noticed. He threw a puzzled look at Ginny, which she pointedly ignored.

"Have a glass, mate." Harry handed Ron a large mug of butterbeer, which he accepted gratefully and downed as quickly as possible. The taste of the added alcohol-du-jour made him fight a shudder, but warmth from the butterbeer settled in him immediately. The crowd cheered their approval when he held out the mug for another helping.

Harry raised his glass and the room grew quiet. "To Ickle Ronnie Weasley, the best Keeper we’ve had since Oliver Wood!"

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed. "I’m the _only_ Keeper you’ve had since Oliver Wood!" The crowd laughed, and he grinned and raised his own glass. "To Seriously Evil Harry Potter, the best Seeker we’ve had since a Weasley deigned to play the position!"

Harry laughed and clinked his glass against Ron’s, then they both drank heartily. The room burst into rowdy applause. Ron heard Ginny whoop loudest and realized she had moved to stand beside Harry. He glanced around for Hermione, and nearly dropped his glass when he felt her hand on his arm. She flashed a wonderfully large smile at him, and Ron’s eyes widened while he tried to stifle a laugh. _Ginny spiked her mug quite well indeed. This should be a wicked good party._ He sent her a grin and surreptitiously ran his hand down her back. She glanced scorchingly in his direction but didn’t move away.

Harry cleared his throat and held up his hand to bring the crowd down. "I propose we make this party one for the books!" Scattered applause. "I have consulted with my best Muggle resources and concluded that they know some fascinating party games. I suggest we try one on for size tonight." He glanced around the room appraisingly as the crowd murmured; everyone seemed game. "Sound appealing?" Ginny whooped the crowd up and Ron suddenly realized she was more than likely in on Harry’s scheme. "All right then. It’s called Spin the Bottle and it’s not exactly complicated: everybody sits in a circle, with the bottle on the floor in the middle. Somebody spins the bottle, and whoever it points to, they get to kiss. Regardless of gender. And whatever happens—-happens."

The crowd murmured, the Muggleborns remembering past games and the others envisioning snog-fests unparalleled. Ron shook his head and chuckled. _Muggles think up some nutty things._ It didn’t really interest him, not while Herimone was standing next to him, warm and intoxicated. He smiled down at her, reassured by her look of disdain towards the game.

Harry put a hand up and continued. "However, there is one rule: you either play or leave. In the name of fairness, there will be no onlookers." He grinned. "So, if you’re interested, please find a seat on the floor. If not, have a wonderful sleep and I’m sure you’ll hear exactly what happened by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Hermione harumphfed and made to leave—to Ron’s admittedly selfish relief—but Ginny quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her aside, then said something in her ear that Ron couldn’t quite make out. He certainly saw Hermione’s bright blush, however, then saw her glance furtively in his direction, turning even more pink and quickly glancing back to Ginny. Ron watched with an unfounded sense of foreboding as she took a long drink from her mug and had a tense conversation with his sister.

Then he felt Harry tap him on the shoulder. "You’re not leaving either, you realize."  
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at his best friend, slightly panicked. "I’ve had enough embarrassment for one hour, don't you think?"

Harry just reached over and clinked Ron’s glass with his own, and Ron felt his stomach take a plunge. "Drink up, mate. This is gonna be a rough night." Then he sat down in the circle of people on the floor.

Ron tried to think. _Maybe you’ll get her,_ the pesky voice said, sounding slightly inebriated. _Or maybe you’ll get someone else and she’ll get jealous._ That sounded sadistically delicious. And, really, what were his options? He couldn’t just leave and miss what would be the most talked-about social event of the year. He shrugged resignedly, took a swig of alcohol, and sat down beside Harry.

Harry nodded his approval. "All right then, let’s get on with it," he said to the group. "The ever-so-lovely Ginny Weasley has been kind enough to supply us with the necessary accoutrements." Harry gestured towards the large, empty bottle with no label that she held. Ron wondered absentmindedly if she’d put the entire contents in the butterbeer.

She ceremoniously placed the bottle in the center of the group and winked at her brother. He scowled. She smirked and raised her glass at him. He couldn't help but chuckle wryly. He was feeling her liqour all right, but it wasn’t having the sedating effect he had hoped for. Instead of taking his mind off Hermione, it made a right comfy pool of wanting for him to slowly drown in.

He had simultaneous urges tap dance for joy and punch in a wall. Yes, he had kissed Hermione Granger. Twice, in fact. And if they hadn’t been interrupted a scant half hour ago, Lord only knew where things would have ended up. The thought nearly made him shiver. He glanced over at Hermione, who was sipping her drink and looking apprehensively around the circle. He watched her for a moment.

And there he was stumped by a revelation.

He realized that when he looked at her he didn’t simply want stolen snogging sessions here and there. He wanted mornings and vacations and kitchens and all sorts of other ridiculous things that had never occurred to him with other girls.

So what the hell was he doing playing spin the bottle?

Her denouncement on the Quidditch field resurfaced in his mind. _Oh, right. She doesn’t want silly ickle me._

He found himself blinking rapidly and forced himself to look anywhere but at her. He needed distraction. His gaze landed on the bottle in the middle of the hesitant crowd. _To hell with it._ "I’ll have a go." He reached forward and spun the bottle around as forcefully as he could. The circle tittered and his heart thumped against his chest. He refused to look up.

The bottle teetered slowly to a halt, pointing at Lavender Brown.

 _The girl with two colours in her name._ Ron felt the insane urge to cackle, but tamped it down, even in his drunken state. He regarded Lavender for a moment, contemplating his next move. _She’s by no means ugly. Hell, maybe it’ll get my mind off of—-_

Before he had even finished the thought, Lavender was on him like bees on clover. Ron was slow on the uptake, sloggy with alcohol, but instinct soon kicked in and he kissed her back quite thoroughly. _She doesn’t taste as sweet as Hermione,_ he noted dimly. _More of a soft, flowery taste._ Try as he might to repress it, a snicker escaped into Lavender’s mouth. He had a fleeting worry that she’d be insulted, but then felt her smile against his lips as the kiss ended.

Ron leaned back, slightly flushed, amidst catcalls and various cheers. He reckoned he heard someone booing disapprovingly, but when he glanced around all he saw were grins and looks of drunken approval. Even his sister had a small smile on her face. He dared a glance at Hermione, and his heart did a clumsy jig.

She looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from strangling Lavender with her bare hands.

"All right then!" Harry caught the group’s attention, including Ron’s. "It’s obviously not the most difficult game! Whoever the bottle points to gets to spin it next, so…" He gestured towards Lavender.

Lavender reached down with a grin and spun eagerly. It stopped on Hermione.

The entire room froze and stared at the two girls. Ron didn’t know what to think. This was one situation that hadn’t occurred to him.

Hermione shot a glare at Ginny, then looked at Lavender. Then, much to Ron's hazy amazement, A lightbulb seemed to turn on in her eyes and she smiled a slow smile. "Well, then?"

Ron’s eyes widened as Lavender giggled and made her way over to Hermione. The entire room watched, fascinated, as their lips touched. There was an explosion of whooping and Ron could guess that more than a few male fantasies would be fueled for weeks to come.

He—-and most everyone else-—expected it to be over quickly, barely qualifying as a kiss. But they underestimated Hermione’s vengeful streak. The girls didn’t part for much longer than expected.

 _Bloody hell,_ Ron thought with a wild smirk. _Somebody’s drunk._

And he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off the two of them. It was surprisingly—He had think for a moment while his intoxicated mind fumbled for the proper word. _Beautiful. Really goddamn beautiful._ Almost beautiful enough to smother the stab of hurt it caused.

Then it was over. Lavender scrambled back to her place in the circle and Hermione leaned back, looking steadily at Ron. She cocked her eyebrow in a definite challenge. "My turn."

Ron heard more giggles and his face turned scarlet. The drunken fool inside of him simply wanted to swear loudly and yank the bottle out of Hermione’s reach before he had to watch her kiss Seamus or Dean or—-God forbid—-Harry. He watched, trying not to look as ill as he felt, as Hermione leaned in towards the center of the circle with a fiery look on her face. She grasped the bottle as if to spin it—-but then she simply turned it so it pointed straight towards him.

He froze, unbelieving.

"Ron." She looked at him and smiled deliciously, standing up and walking to where he sat.

 _So much for keeping it quiet._

Ron heard a whoop he knew to be Ginny’s, but couldn’t bring himself to look away from Hermione’s nearly feral expression as she grabbed his hand and pulled him up to her.

The spectators roared their approval.

And good Christ did she kiss him. Lavender had been gently insistent; Hermione seemed intent on devouring him whole. Her hands slid into his hair and her small body pressed against his, her kiss deepening insistently. Her tongue brushed against his and he let out a soft moan that he could feel down the length of his spine, too late realizing that the rest of the room could probably hear it too. Somehow, it didn’t quite matter. His whole body felt light as air. Kissing her felt the closest to truth he’d ever been.

And she tasted like chocolate.

 _Talk about a dream come true._

Then she was backing away, breaking off the kiss, leaving him alone and cold and aching for her.

The cheers from the crowd broke his train of thought and he looked around blankly at the smiling faces. The room spun slightly and he blinked. Hermione stood a foot away from him, smiling lightly with her arms crossed. He wanted to scream. _Not fucking fair._

Then someone shook his hand and he found himself looking at a widely smiling Dean. "Congratulations!" He said enthusiastically.

"What?" Dean looked pointedly at Hermione and Ron’s stomach threatened to revolt. "No, listen, it’s not what you think—" But Dean had already moved on to give Harry a congratulatory slap on the back.

"Set a date yet?" Seamus asked cheerfully, standing up to join them.

Ron blinked and started to answer but was interrupted by a still-tipsy Hermione. "What, you mean a wedding date?" She laughed as if he’d just told a bawdy joke. "Are you kidding? Ron and me?" She snorted. "No!"

Seamus looked like she’d just said, ‘Snape’s quite a nice chap, once you get to know him!’ He chortled nervously. "But—-Everybody knows you’re mad for each other!"

Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward and gestured quickly, dismissively. Ron thought he saw her hand shake, just a little. "Well, yes! We drive each other mad!" She smiled tightly at the small crowd. "I can't see why that should make us a natural couple. We just—" She struggled slightly for the right words and Ron saw her glance furtively at him. "—have a bit of fun once in a while." She touched Ron’s hand, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Isn’t that right, Ron?" She swallowed, waiting.

She was so beautiful, standing there, looking at him expectantly, cheeks flushed with drink, lips pink from kissing. Ron could only nod. He felt an inch away from being sick.

Murmurs rose from the rest of the people present. Seamus piped up again. "Now, you guys, that’s just silly. You can’t mean—-"

"And why can’t I? Ron hasn’t said he wants anything else, and-—" She paused, then angled her chin determinedly. "-—I certainly don't need a relationship or any such romantic nonsense." She shook her head. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed." She turned and sauntered towards the dormitories. Ginny appeared at her side, took her hand and went with her out of the room, heads together, whispering in that infuriating manner girls have.

The small crowd was silent for a moment. Seamus turned and looked guiltily at Ron. "I’m sorry, mate."

Ron sighed. "It’s all right, you had no way of knowing." Seamus still looked sheepish, and Ron shook his head, tired of the whole thing. "I’m going to bed." A few people muttered goodnights and he headed out of the room, marveling at the difficulty of putting one foot in front of the other.

Harry appeared immediately at his side. "Me as well, then. Goodnight, all." He surreptitiously held Ron’s arm to help him up the stairs.

Ron considered telling him to go away, but was honestly thankful for the support and probably too pissed to get the words in the correct order anyhow.

Once in the room, Ron collapsed in bed with his robes on, not giving a wit about pyjamas. He heard Harry sigh and turned towards the sound. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

Ron sat up, suddenly and irrationally angry. The room spun for a moment. "Don’t ‘nothing’ me. You feeling left out? Or not enjoying watching me get my heart stomped on over and over again?"

There was a moment, then Harry’s sardonic voice. "A little bit of both."

Ron nearly couldn't think of a response. Finally, he settled on the truth. "Yeah, well, me too."

"I know," Harry answered gently.

Ron’s head felt too heavy to keep up, so he closed his eyes and layed down. "Good night, Harry."

Harry’s voice was quiet. "Goodnight."


	7. Strategery*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * quoted to the illustrious president of the united states – or at least it was on SNL. ;) References to _Austin Powers, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, & 10 Things I Hate About You_.

"Oi!"

Ron nearly jumped out of his seat. He glanced around the quiet common room before realizing the voice was coming from a floating red head in the fireplace. He shot a malicious look at his brother. "Isn’t it against the rules for you to be here?"

Fred grinned. "Of course."

George’s voice echoed from somewhere behind Fred. "That’s why you’re coming _here_."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, sure. Sounds like a fabulous plan when I’ve got loads of work to do and Quidditch in a half hour."

Fred clucked his tongue, strongly reminding Ron of his mother. "Now, Ronald, don’t get in a tizzy, this will only take a moment or two."

George’s head took the place of Fred’s. "And you have no choice." Ron felt himself being yanked into the fire then spun round and round with familiar floo-queasiness. He landed a moment later somewhat gracelessly on the hearth in the Burrow, quite annoyed and not about to listen to a word they had to say.

"We know you don’t want to hear it," Fred spoke from the kitchen table, "but it’s our duty."

George nodded beside him. "As big brothers."

"And responsible young men."

Ron stared at them, confused but still stubborn. "What in hell are you talking about?"

The twins shared a meaningful look--and Ron suddenly got the horrible feeling he knew exactly what this was about. _Damn them_. Why couldn’t people just mind their own business? He didn’t want to talk about it, especially, for Christ’s sake, with the twins.

"What?" he demanded.

Fred gestured at George to take the lead, which he did, with brevity. "A little bird told us that you have, of late, been snogging a certain Head Girl. And we wish to give you some brotherly advice."

Ron covered his eyes. _I am going to kill Ginny_. Then a terrible thought occurred to him and his eyes snapped open. "She hasn't gone and told Mum, has she?"

They laughed lightly. "Not yet."

 _Thank Merlin._ Ron took a breath. "Listen, guys, spare me the birds and bees lecture. I think I have a fair idea of how it works."

"Now, now, Ronniekins, are we that shallow? Perhaps we brought you here to talk about _other_ aspects of a relationship."

Ron set his jaw and looked at them squarely. "Well then, boys, you’re chasing the wrong Weasley—-my relationship _has_ no other aspects."

Both twins raised an eyebrow. "And does the illustrious Head Girl think the same?" asked Fred.

Ron let out a frustrated noise. "We’ve never sat down and talked about it."

"You haven’t?" George asked.

"No."

"Ever?" Fred insisted.

"No," Ron managed through clenched teeth.

"Not even, ‘Hey this is just shagadelic?’" George teased, affecting a girly voice.

Ron glared. "We haven’t even mentioned it." The twins looked at him as if he was hiding something. But he wasn’t. Well, not strictly speaking. He squirmed a bit. "Listen, we’re just-—having a bit of fun. We’re seventeen, for Christ’s sake; you remember being seventeen," he said, with a pointed look in Fred’s direction. "Give me a break." He hoped it would do that trick.

Apparently not. Fred shook his head. "I’m afraid we can’t do that, Ron."

"And why on _earth_ not?"

"Because we want our littlest brother to be happy."

Ron snorted. "That was almost convincing."

The twins looked overly affronted, then George leaned forward and regarded Ron with the most honestly serious expression Ron had ever seen on either of them. "We have your best interests at heart. Trust me."

"And what exactly _are_ my best interests?"

"Not acting like a fool and doing something you may regret for many long nights to come."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Fred rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just hush up for a moment and listen, all right?" Ron blinked. "You’ve been after Hermione for years, as we all know-—" Ron started to protest but Fred would have none of it. "—-and now you’re lucky enough to have this perfect, uncomplicated arrangement, right?"

Ron nodded reluctantly. "Right..."

Fred looked directly at him and asked the one question he didn’t want to hear. "What happens next?"

Ron’s mind put up a big blinking ‘out of order’ sign. "Nothing."

"And why is that?"

"Because—-because that’s how it is. That’s how we want it. That’s how it has to be." Ron’s stomach felt like it was slowly tying itself into a complicated knot.

George laughed. "Three strikes, my friend."

Ron looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Well, one—-that’s _not_ how _you_ want it, is it?"

Ron flushed. "Oh, so suddenly you know what I want and don’t want?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Ron, please tell me you’re not daft enough to have ignored your state of perpetual glowing bliss since this arrangement with Hermione came to pass?"

 _Think fast, you git._ "Well—-of course I’m glowing! Ridiculous! Getting off with a beautiful woman would make anybody glow!"

The twins chuckled openly.

Ron blinked. "What did I say now?"

George shook his head. "So you think she’s beautiful?"

Ron fought the urge to cringe. "Well, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be after her, now would I?"

"But that’s all?"

Ron wondered where this line of questioning was headed. Then he sighed. _Bugger all of them_. "Of course not."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "So you admit it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I admit it. She’s bloody fantastic. When I look at her I think kids, I think grandkids."

Fred and George shared a grin, but Ron cut their glee short.

"That is not in your favour, boys."

Fred leaned forward, surprised. "How?"

Ron looked down at the worn kitchen table, absentmindedly tracing his finger along a groove in the wood. "Like I also said, it’s what she wants that matters." His voice was quiet. "And this is the way she wants it."

"Good," George put in quickly, "this was my next point. How are you so sure of this?"

Ron looked up sharply, his eyes darkening. "Because she said so, all right? Because she told most of Gryffindor that she is certainly not interested in a relationship or any such 'romantic nonsense.' She even said that, 'Romantic Nonsense,' like it was the worst thing that'd ever been invented." He stopped. His head hurt just thinking about it. "She said we're just having a bit of fun."

Neither twin looked surprised. "And you’ve never questioned this?" George pressed. "Never once thought that maybe, just perhaps, she wasn’t telling the truth?"

Ron’s eyes widened. He honestly hadn’t ever even considered such a thing. "Why the _hell_ would she do that?" The twins shared another chuckle, annoying Ron greatly. "Honestly! This isn’t just some ‘girl’ we’re talking about; this is _Hermione_."

"Ah," George said sagely, "but even _Hermione_ is human."

"And your point?"

George game him a hard look. "There is another side to this story, Ron."

Ron snorted. "And how would you know?"

The twins looked at him innocently.

Then it dawned on him. "Hermione’s been talking to Ginny, hasn’t she?" George nodded. "And Ginny’s been talking to you?"

"Roundaboutly…yes." Fred had a small smile on his face.

Ron watched them for a moment, feeling a bit hopeful. "So what?"

There was a dramatic pause. "Well, little brother, that is what you need to find out."

Ron, his bit of hope dashed, abruptly lost his patience. "This is why you brought me here? To feed me some cryptic bullshit about human perspective in some half-assed attempt to goad me into wasting my time trying to solve someone else’s problems? Please!" He threw up his hands in disgust. "This is not my fault! I cannot fix this! She just doesn’t want to be with me!" He nearly choked on the words, and quickly stood, trying to tamp down his tantrum-throwing instinct. "This is ridiculous. I’ve got to get back for practice." He turned to leave.

George’s quiet words stopped him. "She loves you, Ron."

Ron’s heart squeaked to a halt. He swallowed hard and turned towards them. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Well, yes, but—-"

"Just-—" Fred interrupted. "--do something about it."

"Soon." George added sternly.

Ron stared at them.

George waved him towards the fireplace. "Now, scoot!"

Ron’s eyes widened. "Leave? Now?"

George rolled his eyes. "Quidditch, remember?"

 _Quidditch. Yeah. That._

"Well, all right," he said reluctantly. He looked at both of them. "Thanks…I think…"

"Anytime," Fred said with a grin. "Scoot!"

Ron rolled his eyes and did as he was told. The floo made his stomach spin as his mind reeled from the conversation.

He landed with a soft thud in the nearly-empty common room and looked at his watch. Then he swore loudly.

He was late again.


	8. Shameless Advances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter largely inspired by 'Shameless' by Ani DiFranco.

That night, sleep came slowly to Ron. His stomach would not settle, and with heavy thoughts he twisted amongst his blankets.

 _Those interfering wankers._ Smooshing his pillow for the millionth time, Ron berated the nearest scapegoats with his thoughts. Fred and George had either tortured him, harrassed him, or ignored him for over a decade; what in Merlin's name were the chances they weren't taking the piss this time? And how could they know anything anyways? As eager as Ginny might be to see Hermione  & him live happily ever after—-and apparently she was--she was still Hermione's _friend. Girl_ friend. Didn't they have rules about this sort of thing? She couldn't just go spilling such personal information to the world's biggest—-biggest—-

 _Wankers,_ Ron's exhausted mind grumpily supplied again.

No, she couldn't. She wouldn't.

And, most importantly, if Hermione loved him, she was doing a damn fine job acting otherwise. And for no bloody reason, his ego interjected. Kissing him in public so thoroughly that he'd been ready to give over his first born to keep it from ending—-then shrugging it off. _Shrugging it off._

He rolled over, exasperated, and buried his face into the pillow with a _fwump_ of expelled breath. He couldn't just lay there and agonize. Especially when he was so bloody tired and had class in a few hours.

 _Some_ one wasn't telling him the truth. And he was more than willing to hedge his bets on the twins.

He breathed in and rolled unclenched his fists. _Yes_ , he decided as his brain became over-clouded with sleep, _it must be the twins taking the mickey_. There was far too much at stake to think otherwise.

***

The common room was buzzing as Ron wandered down the stairs, fresh and clean from a post-Quidditch shower. He had reached the second to last step when he heard Harry’s low voice from the spot just around the corner, one of the only semi-private seats in the room.

"Hermione, you’ve got to stop all this nonsense with Ron."

Said Ron stopped dead in his tracks, stomach churning. "Oh, please, Harry! Did Ginny put you up to this?" Hermione said, an obvious attempt to avoid the subject.

"She didn't have to."

"Well, then, don’t let’s get started," Hermione said in low, annoyed tones. " _Especially_ not in the common room on a Friday night."

"For Christ’s sake, Hermione, everyone knows already." Harry sounded almost angry.

"So what if they _do_ know?" Hermione replied, as if she didn’t give a damn. Ron felt ill and leaned a hand heavily against the wall. _I should go. I should turn around right now. I should--_

"How daft _are_ you?" Harry would have none of Hermione’s avoiding. His voice rose. "Do you think you can just waltz around this school in your randy little bubble without dealing with the consequences?" Ron was nonplussed. Harry's vehemence didn't make sense.

"What consequences?" Hermione suddenly sounded angry also. _Must have been the 'daft' bit_ , Ron thought with a small quirk of his lips.

"Are you _really_ that delusional?" Harry voice was slightly less harsh than his words.

 _Jesus_. Ron nearly caught himself defending Hermione, then thought better of it. "Pardon me?" Hermione said acidly.

"Hermione! You are quite possibly the cleverest witch in all of Britain, yet you fail to see what is painfully—-and I do mean painfully—-obvious."

"Oh, and you’re going to fill me in, are you?" Her disdain would have slain a lesser man. Then she sighed, and her voice lowered. "Harry, please. We’ve already gone through this. A _number_ of times."

 _Merlin, how often do they discuss me, the two of them?_ Ron's heart thumped in his chest.

"Which part? That you’re being completely ridiculous or that you’re being completely selfish?"

"Honestly, Harry, I won’t apologize anymore about this! I cannot name this, I cannot explain this. And I really don’t want to! I can’t even slow this down, let alone stop this." She sighed. "If I had any sense, I guess I’d fear this. I guess I would be more cautious. But I can't, Harry. I just can't. It just--is."

Ron's jaw clenched. _Deal with it, Weasley_. His head began to ache, right behind his eyes.

"Hermione," Harry’s said sharply. "You’re being terrible and I won’t stand for it." Ron couldn't help but agree.

"You have no right," she shot back in menacing tones, "to judge my actions."

"No, actually," Harry retorted, "when you’re breaking my best friend’s heart, I think I do have that right." Ron wanted to kiss Harry for taking his side—-then realized the gravity of what Hermione had just heard.

She scoffed. "Oh, please. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, except maybe Molly Weasley’s." Ron blinked at the admission—-and at the guilty tone that had crept into her voice. What she said next he almost missed. "And perhaps my own."

Ron nearly fell down the last stair.

"Christ, Hermione! You’re being so ridiculous! He loves you!"

He put a hand to his head, which was starting to throb, and waited for the axe to fall.

"Then why hasn’t he said so?" Hermione said sharply.

Ron’s swallowed convulsively and his head snapped up, the pain gone. The magnitude of her statement had not been lost on him.

"You pushed him away before he had the chance! You think he’s going to risk it after that last scene? He’s not up for another brutal public dressing-down."

"All right, all right, I’ll concede that that was a little harsh. _But_ -—" She quickly continued before Harry could say ‘I told you so’. "—he had plenty of chances the first and second times we—-" She stopped. "You know." Her voice took on a frustrated tone. "He could have said something _remotely_ related to love but he most definitely did not. So why should _I_ risk it either?"

The words roared in Ron’s ears. He just hadn't ever considered that it wouldn't be enough.

"I have no answer to that, Hermione," Harry said softly. But I think Ron does. And I think he deserves to be talked to instead of strewn about like yesterday’s newspaper."

"No." She sounded petulant.

"Hermione…" Harry warned, his patience obviously running out.

"God dammit, Harry, I am not some child you can order around and cluck your tongue at disapprovingly." Ron was impressed—-He had never though Harry could get Hermione angry enough to swear.

"You’re bloody well acting like one."

She sighed. "Will you please just let it go?"

"Will you please just talk to him?" His voice was softer.

"Harry…"

"You have to eventually, Hermione."

"Yes, of course." Her voice was small. There was a pause. Her words became barely discernable. "It frightens me to death, you know."

Ron's stomach tightened as he felt a sudden urge to gather her into his arms and make it all go away. But that thought frightened him to death, too. He swallowed hard.

"I know." Harry paused. "But just think about it, all right? And at the very least, be honest with him. Don’t brush him off any more."

"Tall order."

"Don’t I know it. I’m also shagging a Weasley, as you might recall." Ron rolled his eyes.

Hermione sighed dramatically. "They can be pains, can’t they?" The corner of Ron's mouth turned up.

"Most definitely." Harry was quick to agree.

"And brilliant, charming, and delectable," Hermione added in a light voice.

Ron's smile widened. "And that," Harry agreed in a mock-serious tone.

 _Can’t pass that up, now, can I?_ "Delectable?" he asked rogue-ishly, walking around the corner with his eyebrow raised. "You wouldn’t happen to be talking about me, would you?"

Harry smirked. "I most certainly am not." He shot a glance at Hermione. "However…" He raised an eyebrow. "I can’t speak for Hermione here."

Hermione tossed her head and glared at Harry. Then she glanced at Ron, who smirked at her, eyes twinkling. "Don't look so smug. I didn't say anything you didn't already _think_ you knew."

Ron sat on the arm of her chair, purposefully entering her personal space. "That you think I'm the most desirable wizard in all the world?" He put his hand over hers and lathered his tone with sugar. "And nothing would make you happier than to be bound to me for eternity?" He batted his eyelashes at her, leaning in until he was teetering over her poetically.

"In your dreams," Hermione huffed, snapping her book shut. Ron broke the ruse and grinned stupidly at her, which only served to exasperate her more. "Oh please. If you'll excuse me, I'd rather study than listen to any more of your pubescent antics." Harry and Ron exchanged grins, and she stood up and glared at them. "Oh, shove off, the both of you. I'll be in the library whenever you decide to grow up." She turned up her nose and strode out the portrait hole.

Ron watched her figure as she walked away, his pulse racing and the grin still on his face. Then he turned to Harry. "That was brilliant!" he exclaimed, sliding into the chair Hermione had just vacated. "I mean, at first, I was ready to kill you for telling her but you knew! You knew what she'd say!"

Harry shrugged, not looking at Ron. "Yeah, I suppose I did. But I never can be sure about Hermione."

Ron looked at Harry for a moment. "True," he said. "Neither can I." There was a moment of silence, then a smile recaptured his face. "But Jesus, mate, I love her."

Harry smiled gently at him. "I know you do, Ron."

More silence. Then, "Thank you."

Harry studied him, then shrugged. "No problem, Ron. No problem at all."


	9. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One quote from _High Fidelity_. This chapter is dedicated to [BookLuvrM](http://bookluvrm.livejournal.com).

Ron reluctantly cornered Harry in the Quidditch prep room after practice a few days later. "I need to talk to you."

Harry chuckled. "I can guess what about."

"Well, bloody good for you," Ron said tartly, sitting down heavily on the nearest bench.

Harry dropped down beside him. "What's going on? Did it not go as well as you though it would?" Ron wouldn't meet his eyes. Harry's jaw dropped. "You haven't even done it yet, have you?" he asked accusingly.

Ron's ears reddened. "No, I haven't."

"Ron! Stop torturing the poor girl!"

Ron waved him off. "Oh, please, Harry! Seems like she's doing just dandy to me." Indeed, it seemed Hermione preferred their…arrangement—- _friends with snogging rights_ , Ron thought bitterly-—because he could see absolutely no evidence to support the things he'd overheard her saying to Harry all those nights ago. And he had tried to get up the courage to say something, while watching her study or watching her take delicate bites of her Shephard's pie, but had failed miserably, mind spinning with possible embarrassing scenarios. The whole situation made him want to hit something. Hard.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Well, then you're pretty damned daft."

"Gosh, thanks eversomuch." Ron glared. Then he sighed. _No reason to take this out on Harry._ "Listen, mate, it's just that--" He fumbled. "That I--" He just couldn't think of how to say it.

"What, that you're a ruddy coward?"

Ron chuckled resignedly. "Well, since you put it that way…yes."

"Oh, get over it, Ron! What do you need, a flashing sign that says 'enter at will'?

Ron squinted, imagining. "That would do nicely, yeah." He grinned at Harry.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "You're being ridiculous. You know she loves you, you heard her say it."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, technically, no."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Picky, picky. You heard enough."

"I heard enough to make her current behavior down-right illogical."

Harry shot him an incredulous look. "Do you pay attention to _anything_ that goes on around you?"

"No, actually, I'm too busy studying Potions, sorry 'bout that." Ron looked at Harry with narrowed eyes, then sighed resignedly. "I've spent the past week wracking my brain and am no closer to understanding her than I was when we were eleven."

Harry's smile had a bit of indulgence in it. "Want a hint?"

"Yeah, that. Or maybe a map, a script, and a flashlight."

Harry laughed. "All right, then. First off, we know Hermione's not the most secure girl in the world." Ron looked up at him questioningly, and Harry explained. "Remember first year? She just _had_ to tell us exactly the right way to do everything. Constantly trying to prove herself, albeit in a highly annoying fashion."

Ron shrugged a shoulder. "So?"

Harry made an exasperated noise. "So she needs some reassurance, Ron. She's only human. She needs you to communicate how you feel."

"Blimey, Harry, I do! Every time I look at her, or talk to her, or-or anything."

"You look at her like a randy teenager, that's what."

Ron's mouth tightened. "But she's got to realize it's more than that, doesn't she?"

"Ron, how big of a git are you?" Harry asked, surprised. "She's watched you prance around this school for years--well, since you discovered girls, that is--getting off with all sorts of them and not taking any of it seriously."

Ron's jaw dropped. "And--and she thinks this is the same?"

Harry nodded curtly.

Ron felt as though the bottom had fallen out of everything. "How can she?" he managed. "She's--she's _it_ , Harry."

"I know that, and you know that, but she doesn't know that. Think like Hermione would think, Ron."

Ron's wry answer came quickly. "Too bloody logically."

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

Ron mulled this over, then looked at Harry, impressed. "How'd you come about knowing all this?"

Harry shrugged. "Ginny."

"Ah, yes. My lovely sister. How's that going, by the way?"

Harry's eyes twinkled. "You really want to know?"

Ron held his hands up to ward off details. "Nope, no, never mind, forget I asked."

"That's what I thought."

Ron thought for a moment, then stood up to leave. "All right then, I guess I'm off to have a shower."

"Me too," Harry said, standing. They walked towards Gryffindor in companionable silence. When they separated, Harry shook a finger at Ron. "And when I see you again, I want to see a definite post-Hermione glow, all right?"

Ron chuckled, then saluted solemnly. "I'll do my best."

***

 _Eclairs,_ Ron thought, standing outside Hermione's room nearly an hour later, butterflies skipping about in his stomach-- _Thank god for eclairs_. He smiled at the paper bag he held, and raised a hand to knock—-

"What do you want, Ron?" Her voice, though muffled, sounded as though it were just on the other side of the door. He stared dumbly at the offending obstruction, his hand still inches away from actually knocking.

A knowing Hermione opened the door enough to just peek out. "You didn't think they'd leave the Head Girl with no privacy measures, did you?" She opened the door wide enough for him to enter, closed it promptly behind him and gestured towards it. "Look."

Ron did, but only after a sidelong glance at her-clad in very sensible pyjamas made of some flowy fabric that fell over her small body deliciously. He looked away quickly, feigned interest in the door and was surprised to see on it a small circle of light that resembled the hallway just outside. He had to bend down slightly to get a good look, as it was positioned for Hermione's height.

"It's actually a Muggle concept," she said quietly from behind him, "just modified a little so it's undetectable from outside. I always know who's about to knock." Her words just barely fluttered the hairs on the back of his neck and the effect it had on Ron surprised him. He reminded himself to breathe, then straightened and turned to face her. They were inches apart. She looked up at him steadily.

 _Down, boy._

He was caught by her, completely taken by the sweep of her jaw and the dip of her shoulder. He suddenly had the mad wish to just unzip her skin and dive inside--then perhaps he’d finally understand everything that seemed so inexplicable about her. _Then again, that might kill me_ , he thought ruefully. As it were, she left him distressingly unable to construct proper sentences or get a good night's sleep.

"So what are you doing here, Ron?" Ron blinked. She had turned from him, and seemed to be getting ready for bed. "It's a bit late to be sneaking round the dormitories just to borrow my Transfiguration book."

"Why would I sneak? I know the Head Girl and Boy personally." He flashed a grin at her. "And I don't need your book, thanks very much. I came to give you something."

She looked warily at him. "Dare I ask what it is?"

"Do you even _need_ to ask?"

 _Check_ , he thought triumphantly.

She studied him for a moment, then tossed her head and picked up her wand. " _Accio!_ "

The bag flew into her hand. He had to chuckle. "Does this mean you'll take it?"

She gave him a 'you're being daft' look. "Who in their right mind rejects gifts?"

He smiled. "Open it, then."

She put her hand on her hip, considering him, then opened the bag reluctantly. "Don't go thinking that you can simply waltz in here, show me an éclair, and have your way with--" She stopped abruptly and stared at the small box she'd taken from the bag. She looked up at him, surprised. "This isn't an éclair."

"Do I detect a note of bitter disappointment?" He smiled gently at her. "Go on, open it."

She eyed him suspiciously then gingerly took the top off the small box. Her mouth dropped open and she shot him a look of utter disbelief. "Oh, honestly!" she snapped. "If you think for one moment that I'm going to act out one of your ridiculous fantasies, then you should just turn right on round and walk out the door."

Ron's face broke into a grin. "Now, Hermione, would I ever attempt such a lewd thing?"

"Yes," she said tartly. She put the lid back on the box and handed it to him as if it contained something Snape would put in a jar and study.

Ron took the box but paid it no attention. "It's just chocolate."

"Hmf." He watched as she occupied herself with re-arranging her schoolbooks for the following day.

"And there's something else in there, you know." He gestured to the bag he'd brought, which she'd thrown on her desk with disgust.

She looked at him, surprised, then peered into the bag. She pulled out a small piece of parchment—

\--and a small brussel sprout.

She glanced at him then back down at the paper. "'There's always potential,' it says." She blinked at it, and he watched as she flushed slightly.

 _Check._

She looked at him, her chin high. "Oh, I see. And it's up to me to realize the potential? Must I do everything for you?"

 _Touche._

Ah, but he was prepared for this.

"You shouldn't assume, Hermione." Ron put down the bag and the box, and pulled out his own wand. " _Accio_ ," he said, and the brussel sprout sprang out of her hand. He caught it easily, looked at her intently and used his most beguiling tone. "Come here, then."

She considered it, a half-smile on her lips. "Why?"

"Because."

She tsked. "I need a better reason than that."

"Just come here."

"Ron, we should both be in bed."

"Is that an invitation?" He shot her a wicked look.

She looked down her nose at him. "No."

Ron feigned hurt surprise. "I thought you enjoyed my company."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't let just anyone into my bed."

"Then come here and let me sweep you away with my Transfiguration prowess."

This persuaded her, apparently, because she let out a laugh and walked towards him. "What are the chances?" She stood in front of him again, a dubious but curious expression on her face. He found himself looking at her, noticing a little freckle right near her chin, and a little scar on her temple that he'd never seen before.

 _Stop it_ , he admonished himself. It would do no good to continue ogling her; he needed to concentrate. He stared hard at the offensive green vegetable for a moment, then pointed his wand at it and muttered the same thing Hermione had said on the quidditch field all those nights ago.

To his great relief, it worked.

"There!" he said triumphantly, holding out a nearly perfect éclair.

 _Check._

He took a bite, savouring not only the taste, but the fact that Hermione couldn't seem to look away from his mouth. "Would you like some?" He held out the dessert.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's terrible to eat before going to bed, Ron."

"Says who?" He dipped a finger into the filling then swirled it around inside his mouth, not taking his eyes off her.

"And--and sugar isn't good for you." Her cheeks were getting slightly pink.

"So what?" He swept more crème out of the éclair and placed a dab straight on her nose.

"Ron!" She jumped and immediately wiped it away. Then she stared for a moment at her crème-covered finger.

Her eyes glinted and she reached towards his face with obvious intent. He caught her wrist inches away from its intended target. He couldn't waste this opportunity. His gaze on her face, he brought her finger to his lips and gently licked off the crème, enjoying himself thoroughly. Her cheeks turned a high shade of pink and her lips parted slightly. _Brilliant_. Ever-so-slowly, he turned her wrist just enough so he could place his lips against the soft skin of the underside. He was rewarded by a small gasp. His insides turned over at the sound.

 _Now or never, Weasley._

He tugged her gently towards him until their whole bodies were touching. His skin started to tingle and he knew his desire would be evident in mere seconds. His heart pounding, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Go on, it won't kill you."

She leaned back enough to look him in the eye. "No," she said softly, taking the éclair from out his hand, "it won't." She paused, searching his face, then seemed to come to a decision. "But you might be the death of me." Her other hand snaked out of his to the back of his neck, pulling him towards her, and she kissed him. He was nearly too surprised to kiss her back.

Nearly.

He felt like the earth was disappearing from under his feet. He buried his free hand in her hair as her lips opened beneath his. His heart beat wildly against his chest and he wondered how he'd gone for so long without this. She kissed him thoroughly, as if seeking the answer to a complex problem, and his body felt so alive he could hardly breathe.

Then she pulled back, completely back, leaving only one hand intertwined with his. He nearly groaned in disappointment. "What?" he breathed.

She held up the éclair. "We have unfinished business," she said softly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Plenty, in fact."

"I meant the éclair."

"Mm-hmm." He plucked it out her fingers and took a bite.

"Ron!" She reached over to take it from him.

"Uh-uh." He held it up in the air where she couldn't possibly reach it.

"It was my spell!" she yelled, jumping toward his hand in vain.

"Yes, but it was my brilliant idea." He reached his other hand round to tickle her side while she was focused on her quarry.

She started and stepped back, nearly losing her balance, and found herself sitting on her bed. "Oy! Ron!"

"What?" he said innocently, taking another bite.

"That wasn't fair!"

"Who says life is fair?" he said sagely.

She threw her hands in the air. "Oh, bollocks to you."

Ron was shocked. "Why, Hermione Granger! What unladylike language!" He grinned at her. "I do believe I'm rubbing off on you."

She didn't budge. "And if you'll be obliging, you'll sod off as well!"

He hid his grin, instead putting on a cajoling face and holding out the last bite of the éclair. "You wouldn't insult a man offering you his last bit of sweet, would you?"

She pursed her lips slightly, but he could tell she was tempted. He stayed still, watching her inner debate.

Finally, her hand darted out and snatched the bite out of his hand. He watched, a bit envious, as she enjoyed every last second of it.

After a moment, she looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"What?"

She looked at him intently and held out her hand. "Don't we have some other unfinished business?" she said softly.

He blinked.

 _Bloody hell._

In a flash he was in front of her, her hand in his. "I reckon so," he murmured with a smile. Then, unexpectedly, he was struck by the feeling of her hand. Warm and soft and--and--He tried to think of the word but failed. _Good. Really good._

Hermione's voice broke into his musing. "Ron, take your shoes off."

He nearly laughed. "What?"

She nodded at his feet. "Take your shoes off."

He glanced from her face to his shoes. "Why?"

She smirked at him. "Because, you idiot, I don't want you getting my bed dirty."

At the moment of comprehension, all Ron's thought ceased.

"You mean--" He hadn't realized he'd spoken until he heard the sentence drop off, and had no idea how to finish it.

A corner of her mouth turned up, and thankfully she kept speaking, her tone light. "Not to mention, it would be entirely awkward for us to continue while you have your shoes on."

A laugh escaped him. "You have a point with that one." He cleared his throat and looked at her intently. "Hermione--You're sure?"

She smiled up at him gently, laughter in her eyes, then pointed to a spot next to her on the bed. "Take off your shoes, Ronald."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but sat down to do as ordered. "I was under the impression that you didn't let just anyone into your bed," he said mildly, trying not to sound like a completely giddy fool.

She studied him for a moment, a caught expression on her face that he dared not interpret. Then she played a surprised look and trailed her hand up his arm slowly. "Yes, well, that Transfiguration move seems to have worked, hasn't it?"

Ron had absently finished ridding himself of shoes and socks, all the while watching her leisurely progress up his arm. The skin under his clothing tingled where she touched it.

He swiftly took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Works every time." He lightly nipped the inside of her wrist, eliciting another small gasp. "As, I see, does that." He wanted to try it over and over again and see what other sounds he could get her to make, but she wrenched her hand away and shook a finger at him warningly.

"I can play that game, too." She leaned over the side of the bed and her top slid up, giving Ron a very good view of her deliciously curvy lower back. He nearly reached out to smooth a hand up the creamy skin but she straightened, holding the previously discarded box of chocolate.

"Let's see," she began, feigning deep concentration. "What on earth could keep Ron distracted during weeks of stimulating goblin social history lectures?" She paused, as if thinking hard. "I've got it!" she said victoriously. "Perhaps something a bit like this--"

She dipped her finger in the box and proceeded to draw a line of chocolate from the pulse point in her neck to the first button of her pyjama top. He nearly lost his mind when her finger slid into the shadows of her cleavage and out again, finding its way to her mouth to be licked clean.

She looked up at him with triumph in her eyes. "That about right, Ron?"

"Yeah--Yeah, about right," Ron said hoarsely. All he saw was the trail of sweetness on her skin and all he knew was how badly he wanted to taste it. It seemed his blood was rushing about in a mad frenzy.

"Well?"

He looked up at her face, then became caught on her lips. "What?" he managed, his throat thick with want.

"How does the rest of the fantasy go?"

 _Oh. Dear. God._

"Come here," he very nearly growled, pulling her towards him. His hands slid around the small of her back and into her hair, and he kissed her with every ounce he had. His tongue demanded entrance into her mouth, and she obliged quickly. She tasted like chocolate and the sensations nearly made him dizzy.

He pulled back and looked at her with a gleam in his eyes. Her cheeks were stained with pink and her lips were parted slightly. "That's not usually at the beginning," he said lightly, brushing a finger along her cheekbone, enthralled by the colour there. Knowing he had put that colour there.

"Oh, really?" Her voice was nearly fluid.

"No, usually I have much more self-restraint than that."

"Restraint? You?" She snorted. "They truly are fantasies, then."

His jaw dropped. "Why you little--" He swiftly picked her up by the waist and flipped her onto the bed, sitting up on his knees next to her. She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him as he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned over her. "And you say I have a smart mouth."

He kissed her teasingly this time, not letting her have access to his mouth, just running his tongue along her lips and pressing his mouth against hers lightly. She moaned in frustration and he broke off, laughing. "What?"

She nearly pouted. "Play fair, Ron."

"Play fair?" He wrinkled his brow in mock confusion. "Ah, yes, the game! How could I forget?" He smiled wickedly and moved lower, placing a kiss on the bit of skin she'd sullied with chocolate. His lips unhurriedly enjoyed the beautiful smooth spot on her neck, getting to know a part of the woman he'd been aching to explore.

Her back arched and her breath came out in a bit of shudder. "Oh God, Ron." His stomach vaulted at the sound of his name on her lips.

His lips moved down the sweet trail, tasting new skin. Wonderful skin. He felt her hand weave into his hair, encouraging him. He slowly reached the end of the trail--and the button of her pyjamas. His head swam with the possibilities and his stomach fluttered with nerves.

He raised his head to look at her. _Dammit, she looks good enough to eat._ Her cheeks were thoroughly pink now, and her eyes were bright with desire as she looked at him questioningly. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because, I--" He petered off. "I just wanted--" He stopped. What _did_ he want?

Well, that was easy enough--her.

 _So why did I stop?_

All at once, words he'd overheard floated through his head. _He could have said something remotely related to love but he most definitely did not,_ Hermione's voice echoed. _So why should I risk it either?_

His eyes traveled from her mouth to her hair to her flushed cheeks to her eyes. Her eyes.

 _She's worth the risk._

He took a deep breath and dove in. "I want you," he said roughly. He captured her lips with his own, his tongue sweetly gaining access and dancing with hers. A few seconds later, he spoke softly against her mouth. "In every single way." He pressed his lips against hers gently before she could protest. "Because you're brilliant." He kissed her again. "And gracious." Again, grazing his tongue against her lips this time. "And funny." Again, thoroughly now, trying to get her to feel the truth of his words.

He pulled back and looked her in the eye. "And definitely the most arousing sight I have ever laid eyes on."

She burst into light laughter and cupped his face in her hands. "I could say the same for you." She kissed him lightly, teasingly flicking her tongue against his bottom lip. "But as you're really an unattractive git, I'd best not."

In the moment he spent staring at her twinkling eyes, she deftly slid out from under him and pushed him onto his back. He laughed out loud. "You think so, do you?" he asked as she straddled his thighs triumphantly. He pulled gently on her hips to settle her body over him, then pushed up into her just enough--Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath, thoroughly distracted, and with hardly any effort he grabbed her hands and pinned her lightly beneath him.

He looked her in the eye, his mouth curved into a grin. "This means war, you realize."

She looked up at him defiantly and he felt her hips move in a small circle against him. He moaned low in his throat and shot her a fierce look.

"Then let the games begin." And he lowered his head.

He danced his lips along her neck while his hands found their way to the first button on her pyjama top. _One down_ , he thought as he slid the button out of its hole. Slowly, he kissed his way down to the newly-exposed skin. She gasped and arched her back again, and he smiled. He continued to the next button, then the next, until they were all undone, and kissed every bit of her he could reach. He raised himself to get a proper view and softly drew apart the two pieces of fabric, pushing her top off her shoulders.

"Beautiful," he breathed, running a palm around her breasts with reverence. He couldn't seem to get a proper breath.

 _My God--this woman really is amazing._ Better than he'd ever dreamed.

He reached around to help her get the garment entirely off. "You're just--perfect." The words tumbled out before he could stop them and she laughed softly. He dipped his head down to her left breast and her laughter became a low moan that set his skin on fire. He moved his lips lovingly around her breast, getting closer to the center, listening to her gasp and feeling like the king of the world. When his lips finally surrounded her nipple, she cried out and writhed beneath him.

His mind whirled. To know he had this effect on her was quite possibly the best rush he'd ever had. It was a heady experience with anyone, but with Hermione--He knew it was something he wouldn't mind doing for a very long time.

As was his intention.

He thoroughly teased one nipple, then obligingly turned his attention to her other breast. Both her hands were buried in his hair by this point, and she was taking shallow, gasping breaths every time his lips moved against her skin.

It had also never been this much fun before, he realized. With other girls, it was enjoyable, but this was--This was like worship. This was the only proper way to express how immensely beautiful she was. This simply made sense.

He felt her hands tug on his hair slightly. "Ron…" His name tumbled from her lips in a low airy tone and he moved up to taste her mouth again. Her tongue pushed into his and they kissed for what seemed like years before he realized her hands had moved to the small of his back, nudging his shirt aside to caress the skin underneath. "You have far too many clothes on," she whispered into his lips.

He grinned. "Well, I'll remedy that straight away, won't I?" He got to his feet beside the bed and rid himself of said clothes as gracefully as possible. Surprisingly, he managed not to tear anything or fall over, a feat he had not expected.

Finished, he looked at her, tension suddenly coiling in his stomach. Her eyes grazed his body hungrily, lingering low, then met his. He tried not to feel self-conscious. "Come here." The desire in her voice erased any thoughts of discomfort. The desire in her voice nearly erased any thoughts at all.

He made as if to swan dive onto the bed and she laughed. He settled himself next to her and propped his head in his hand. "Care to join me, Ms. Granger?" He waggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously and gestured at his nakedness.

She considered, then shook her head. "No, thanks, I think I'll just keep my modesty for a bit longer."

He guffawed. "Modest? You?" He grinned wickedly. "Only in your fantasies."

She shrieked and made to hit him but he deflected her easily, catching her wrist and pinning it over her head. "Play fair, Hermione." She looked at him defiantly and suddenly he felt her other hand travel down his body, past his stomach. He sucked in a breath and reached to take her hand away. "That's most definitely not fair."

She dodged his hand and touched him again, with a face that clearly said she wasn't interested in playing fair. He let out a shuddering breath and brought a hand to her heated face. "Listen, you," he scolded softly. "If you keep on with that, this will last about ten more seconds."

She laughed out loud and he flushed slightly. She saw his face and kissed him gently, her hands in his hair. "Oh, Ron, this is wonderful. You shouldn't be worried."

"Worried?" he scoffed, wincing internally that he was so transparent. "I'm not worried, I just want to try some things before I get too-distracted."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Some things? More Transfiguration expertise?"

He chuckled. "No, I think I'm through with that for now." He casually slid a finger under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, sneaked into her underwear, then tugged them down as low as he could.

"Ah, well then, moving on," she said sagely, innocuously lifting her hips enough that he could tug her clothing all the way off.

"To much better things, in my opinion." He leisurely ran his hand up the length of one beautiful thigh and down the other, then back up, oh so slowly, to their apex. His fingers reached their target and she breathed in sharply, her eyes closing and his name coming out of her in a groan. His blood roared as he caressed her softly and watched her body shiver with ecstasy.

 _She wants this,_ he realized with a pang of certainty. _She wants me._

And suddenly he wanted more than anything to see how far he could take her.

He leaned in and kissed her neck, sucking a red mark onto the delicate skin. Her back arched and her hips started to move, pushing his fingers to a faster rhythm. He raised his head to look at her. _There's just nothing so beautiful as this,_ he thought.

When her breath started to hitch, he slowed purposefully, eventually moving his hand back up her stomach to lazily circle her breasts.

She bit her lip and opened one eye to glare at him. "Who's not playing fair now?" She sighed dramatically and closed her eyes again, surreptitiously shifting her breasts into his hands.

"On the contrary, you'll find my methods quite fair, even extraordinarily so. " He paused, moving has hand up to her chin. "I have a debt to settle, remember?"

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. She knew exactly what he was implying.

 _Check._

When she spoke, the words rushed together. "Oh god, Ron you don't have to--I mean--it was a silly joke--" He was charmed by this sudden shyness, and caressed her cheek reassuringly. "--I don't want you to feel obligated, because you're not, you know, and--" His fingers reached her lips and she stopped abruptly.

"I don't." He ran a finger across her bottom lip tenderly. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Her eyes were wide and stared into his for what seemed to be ages. Then she bit her lip and nodded.

His face broke into a grin and he kissed her softly. "I can't promise to be perfect, but I should think you won't regret it."

The corner of her mouth turned up and her eyes fell to his mouth. Her gaze lingered and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I should think."

He growled and was on her in an instant, feeling the need to devour her whole. _Silly joke_ , indeed, he thought as he dragged his lips down her body. A silly joke that had tortured him for weeks.

She squirmed when he reached her stomach, and he chuckled against her skin. "Ticklish?"

He felt a hand pinch his earlobe hard. "Yes, and don't you dare do that again."

"Ouch! All right, mum, I get the message!" he muttered as he drew her legs apart and settled in between them.

She smacked the back of his head just enough to make a loud sound, but not enough to hurt. "Don't you dare bring your mother into this, Ronald Weasley! You certainly know how to ruin a perfectly good--" She gasped and wove her fingers tightly into his hair. "Oh, God."

Trumpet fanfares boasted triumph in Ron's head.

 _My, she does taste lovely._

He explored for a long moment, enjoying the flavour and texture of her. Then she moaned and moved her hips in an impatient circle. He raised his head for a moment. "Demanding, are we?" He had to dodge her hand again, then resumed his ministrations.

He savoured her lovingly, moving steadily across her center. Thoroughly enjoying himself, he investigated all avenues, find things that made her gasp and things that made her shake.

 _Better than eclairs,_ he decided. _Much better._

Her legs began to tense and she breathed his name desperately. He tasted her until she was writhing beneath him, crying out for him to keep going, to never stop, to go faster--

"Oh God—Oh--yes!"

He felt her hips arch off the bed, her body clenched. He stayed with her, relishing the tremors that flowed through her.

After a moment, her hands tightened in his hair, and one made its way to his cheek, gently pulling his head up. He looked up at her and couldn't help but grin. She tugged at his hair insistently and he made his way back up her length, settling in closely beside her. He was surprised when she leaned over and kissed him, a bit timidly but rather thoroughly just the same. He recovered quickly and kissed her back, letting her taste.

She drew back and laughed at the look on his face. "You look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary."

"Didn't taste like canary…" He threw her a lopsided grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I should hope not." She paused, putting a finger to his lips lovingly. "Thank you."

He chuckled, then saw her face flush slightly with embarrassment. He took her hand and shook his head, trying to explain. "You're welcome. It's brilliant, really, I--Any time you want--Any time, honestly." He paused, then plunged ahead. "Was I--was that-the first time anyone had--you know-done that? To you?"

Her face flushed deeper and she nodded, sniffing slightly. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No! God no, I was just--I was just curious, that's all." He kissed her gently. "The debt is settled, by the way."

She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "And?"

He ran his tongue over his lips contemplatively. "You were right--Much better."

She laughed and pulled him to her, kissing him fully. Want jolted through his body and he reached to touch her somewhere, anywhere, but pulled back, afraid she might need more time.

She murmured something into his lips and he felt her hand on his back, urging him to move over her. He broke the kiss and leaned against her forehead. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yes." She took a deep breath, studied his face, and a small smile broke out. "I want you."

Ron felt as if the Cannons had just won the league. He dove into her with a splash, running his hands over her body, all the skin he could reach, and explored her mouth with such fervor he half expected her to resist. But she didn't. Her hands roved up and down his back, running through his hair and encouraging him as he settled in the cradle of her hips. He pressed into her eagerly and she laughed. "Demanding, are we?" she said wickedly, raising her knees and capturing his body between her legs.

He started to laugh but it got stuck in his throat as he felt how close they were. "Oh, Jesus--" He cut himself off abruptly. "Hermione, should-—did--" The tips of his ears reddened. _What a sodding mug I am._

"What's wrong?" she asked, her face filled with sudden worry.

He couldn't quite look her in the eye. "I've never--I mean--I've always stopped just before—er--This." His face burned.

"Oh!" She looked quite surprised, then her face softened and she spoke gently. "We don't have to-if you don't want to--"

"No, I want to!" He cut her off immediately, his eyes coming back to her face urgently. "Dear sweet Merlin, I want to. I just don't know about the--precautionary--bits--"

"Oh, I've taken care of all that--"

"All right--but--I don't want to--hurt you…"

She shushed him quickly. "You won't." She looked at him plainly and suddenly he understood.

She'd done this with someone else.

 _Checkmate._

His jaw clenched. "You mean you're not--"

"No, I’m not." She kissed him sweetly, reassuringly, but he pulled back after a moment. He had to ask, and he hated himself for it.

"Who?"

Pain flashed in her eyes and he nearly flinched. "Ron, please don't ask me that. It doesn't matter now." He searched her face, but there was no trace of guilt or embarrassment. She looked as if--as if she was telling the truth. "I'm with you now. I want to be with you."

He felt her arms go around him, her body moved against him, and suddenly he was sliding inside of her. He didn't know whether to cry out or to kiss her or to shut his eyes or to weep. All he knew was that it was brilliant.

"Oh Jesus, Hermione." He lost himself in the sensations, following where instinct led him. He kissed her roughly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and nearly crying out when hers twisted with his just as urgently. After a moment, he tore away, gasping. He couldn't seem to breathe properly.

He cupped her face with his hand. "You—-this--" he trailed off and pushed into her, watching her face. _So fucking beautiful_. Her eyes had a wild look to them and her bottom lip was between her teeth. He shifted, trying a different angle, and she gasped.

His blood pumped recklessly through his veins as he watched his name form on her lips and felt her hands in his hair. He was struck deeply by emotion, and the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "Hermione, I lov--"

Her eyes snapped open, he saw fire in them, and she quickly put a finger over his lips. "Don't," she said, shaking her head impatiently. "Just--" Her hands guided his lips to hers and her hips thrust against him.

His eyes slid shut of their own accord and he couldn't help but move with her. Her body was moving into his perfectly and her lips were so sweet. His mind swam; he couldn't think of anything but this. He slid a hand into her hair and buried his face in her neck, moaning incoherencies, knowing only that he loved this woman and never wanted this to end. He thrust into her mindlessly, feeling his insides coil, hearing himself cry out with urgency.

Then he heard her whisper in his ear. "It's all right, Ron. Let go." And suddenly all his muscles tensed and he felt sweet release, the sweetest release he had ever imagined. He shuddered into her, feeling her hands on his back, in his hair, feeling her neck against his lips and the warmth of her body.

He tried to hold himself up, so as not to crush her, but his body was not interested. He heard her soft laughter and slowly raised his head. "What?" he managed roughly.

"Relax."

He blinked. "Honestly?"

"Honestly. It's--it's actually quite nice, for a bit at least." She looked at him cajolingly. "Please?"

He let out a breath and eased his body onto hers, feeling like a bit of an oaf but liking the feeling of having their whole bodies touching. He could hear her soft breathing, and her fingers stroked his hair gently.

After a moment, he pulled his body off of hers and settled at her side. He trailed kisses along the skin within his reach, relishing the way her neck curved into her shoulder and the little dip of her collarbone.

"Ron?" Her voice was quiet.

He smiled into her skin. "What?"

"Are you going to--to stay the night?"

Reality flew at him with a crash and he pulled away from her. "Do you want--Should I leave?" He felt sick with the possibility.

"Well, I--" She stopped, as if she didn't want to say what she was thinking. "I don't want you to. If you want to go, then--"

"No! I--" He swallowed and looked at her desperately. "I want to stay."

"Then stay," she said softly, smiling. He couldn't help but smile back.

Then she moved as if to stand up. "Are you going somewhere?" He tried to sound light hearted, but this was all very new to him.

"Yes." A smile played on her lips as she stood up and looked at him. "I'm going to the loo."

He felt his ears go up in flame. "Oh, sorry."

She laughed. "Don't apologize. You should too, you know."

His face reddened. "Right." She disappeared through the adjoining door and he sunk back into the pillows. His thoughts were absolute muck.

He covered his face with his hands. Right. _Get your bloody act together, Weasley_. Damn his body. Damn the power that woman had over him. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself. Trying to convince himself that everything was all right.

"Something wrong?" Her voice startled him and he realized she was standing near him, looking concerned.

"Er--no. I'm fine." He stood up. "I'll just be--" He gestured towards the bathroom door. "Right." He moved to go past her but was stayed by her cool hand on his arm. He forced himself to look at her, his face still flushed with embarrassment.

She leaned up, pressed her lips into his and Ron was stunned. It felt completely new to him, gentler than before, and emotion overwhelmed him. He buried his fingers in her hair and opened his lips under hers, sliding his tongue softly into her mouth, lovingly exploring.

It ended and she smiled up at him. "I'll be here."

He touched her cheek fleetingly. "Good."

She turned and pulled the dishevelled bedcovers down. He watched her climb in, admiring her body and wondering when he'd ever get another chance to be with her like this.

The thought stuck with him as he washed up. He felt far too helpless for his own liking, but when all was said and done he really couldn't change it. He had tried, hadn't he? And she had shushed him. _Shushed_ him.

He looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, then made his way back to the bed.

She had the covers tucked in around her and he couldn't help but smile at the perfect picture she made. She saw his smile and pushed back the covers. "Care to join me?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. "I'd love to, actually." He settled against her, enjoying the feeling of her warmth with his. It was new to him. He realized he rather liked it.

She snuggled into his shoulder. "It was wonderful, Ron. Good night."

"Good night, Hermione," he said softly.

He lay awake for a long while.


	10. Lull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally unplanned mini-chapter in response to [Abigail89](http://abigail89.livejournal.com)'s dribble challenge at The Smutty Classroom.

"Ron! You're not supposed to have food in here!"

Caught mid-chew, his head whipped round to find Hermione standing by the nearest bookshelf, which hid the rest of the library from view, her hand on her hip, looking at him very disapprovingly.

 _Game on._

He raised an eyebrow at her, then turned back to his Herbology book. "Don't nag, Hermione; it's not becoming."

He heard her indignant gasp. "Ron! Just for that, I may as well turn you in. Honestly, I should deduct a hundred points from Gryffindor simply for you being an insufferable prat."

"Do that." He lazily took another bite, slowly enjoying the sweetness on his tongue.

There was a moment of silence.

"What an earth are you eating, anyways?"

He suppressed a victorious smile. "I should think you'd know." He held the remaining piece out slightly, so she'd have to sit near him to get a good look. He watched her set her bookbag down and sit in the chair across from him, their knees almost touching.

"Actually, no. I'm not the best with desserts, considering."

"Oh, I disagree." He shot her a wicked grin. "You certainly taste best with desserts."

She blushed furiously. "Ron, shush! We're in the library!"

He decided to humour her for the moment, and turned his attention back the sweet. "My dad says it's called a brownie, some sort of Muggle sweet. It's a bit like a cross between fudge and chocolate cake… well, nearly." He looked at her. "You've had fudge and chocolate cake, haven't you?"

"Of course I have!" she said quickly, then admitted in slightly lower tones, "though not at home."

Ron laughed. He held out the brownie again. "Try?" She obviously wasn't convinced. "Oh, right, there's something else, too—" He reached down to the bag on his other side and returned with a small box that looked startlingly familiar.

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, honestly, Ron, I'd think you could be a little more creative—"

He interrupted her lightly, amused at her assumption. "My dad sent this, too. He said the Muggles put together this whole package deal so you can dribble more chocolate on the brownies right before you eat them." He shrugged. "I hadn't gotten around do it yet. Want some?"

She shook her head, her chin in the air, trying not to look embarrassed. "Sounds awful, if you ask me."

He chuckled. "Sure it does." He tilted the box just a little and chocolate slowly oozed out onto the small remains of brownie he held. For some reason, the slow motion of it fascinated him and he watched raptly as he drizzled a swirling pattern of chocolate on chocolate.

He leaned towards Hermione, a smile playing on his face. "Looks fabulous, doesn't it?"

She bit her lip, clearly torn. "Well, perhaps—just a bit—" She leaned in herself, and suddenly they were inches apart, with naught but chocolate between them. Ron's heart sped up decidedly and he watched her cheeks grow decidedly pink.

He was in the middle of another of his sweetest fantasies.

And though he couldn't exactly throw her up against a bookshelf and make love to her, he would take whatever he could get.

He held the last bite up to her lips. Some chocolate trickled onto his fingers deliciously before she opened her mouth and enveloped the sweet. He felt her lips on his fingers and suppressed a shudder, not willing to let her have the upper hand just yet.

He nearly cried out as she took a finger into her mouth lingeringly. _So much for the upper hand_. Heat ran from his hand straight down his body.

She released him and he tore his gaze away from her lips to search her eyes. "Hermione…" he said hoarsely. "You'll get us both in trouble if you keep on with that kind of behavior."

"And you'd mind?"

He grinned and reached a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Not exactly." His fingers slid along her cheek. "But I think you would." Her lips parted slightly and he ran a finger across them.

She kissed his finger lightly and shrugged. "You're probably right." She covered his hand with hers and held it between them, running her thumb across his palm in absentminded circles. "Then again," she began, looking at him contemplatively. "I _am_ Head Girl."

His heart beat a mite faster. "Yes, you are."

"So perhaps I could just—" She leaned forward and kissed him quickly, her lips soft as heaven on his, but for a mere moment.

"Yes, you could," Ron said softly as she pulled away.

She glanced towards the enclave opening, then glanced back at him, a gleam in her eyes. "And maybe, if I wanted…" She moved again, guiding her lips to a spot right below his left ear. He felt a moan vibrate low in his throat and fire shoot through his body as she gently bit his neck, leaving his skin tingling for more.

"If you wanted," he agreed in low tones, looking at her with darkening eyes but managing to keep his voice under control.

She spoke softly but matter-of-factly, her breath brushing his cheek. "Seems as though we're not in trouble yet."

"So it seems." He hardly dared breathe.

"Therefore, I could even—" Her hand slid up his thigh and he choked on what little breath he had left in his lungs.

"Why, Hermione," he said in low tones as her hand slowly set about driving him mad. "One would think you wanted to brazenly ravish me in the library."

She looked at him defiantly. "And what if I do?" Her fingers teased every inch of him and he fought the instinct to push into her hand. He could feel his cheeks burning and his lungs gasping as he succumbed to her ministrations.

"What about the consequences?" he asked, tracing a hand up her arm to grace her cheek.

"There won't be any consequences." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Because for once you'll keep quiet."

He looked steadily at her for a moment, noting the seriousness of her voice, the fire in her eyes, and the dust of pink spreading across her cheeks.

 _Aw, hell. Winner takes all._

"Come here," he groaned, pulling her towards him. His lips met hers hungrily, his tongue sweeping through her mouth with intent to possess. He felt like he could never get enough.

But he was damn well going to try.

He felt her body settle on top of his and broke the kiss with a gasp. "What—Hermione--" Her knees were on either side of him and her center pressed into his arousal with insistence. He suppressed a groan, feeling his body push into hers. Then suddenly she was kissing him, sliding her tongue past his and claiming her territory.

He couldn't keep his hands off her. He slipped them under her jumper, under her shirt and found the soft skin of her stomach, remembering too late about the tickle factor.

She broke off and arched her back outwards, trying to get away from his hand. He chuckled and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Find that funny, do you?"

He shrugged rogueishly, a smile playing on his lips, and was about to reply with something witty when he felt her lips on his earlobe and all thought disappeared faster than a golden snitch. "Oh god, Hermione—" The words were a mere breath.

She bit down lightly and he shuddered, rotating his hips against hers, feeling her push back in response. His hands flew to her face and gently pulled her lips back to his. He kissed her thoroughly, intensely, not letting either of them up for air.

His hands slid to her back, easing under her clothing and caressing her soft skin urgently, then gliding up her ribcage and onto the delicate fabric of her bra. He swept his tongue into her mouth and brushed his thumbs over her nipples, swallowing her moan and feeling her hips buck into his.

His hands somehow found their way to the round of her hips and pulled her tight against him, and he couldn't stop himself from grinding against her feverishly. She gasped his name and his insides started to tighten and he knew he didn't want it to end like this.

"Hermione..." he whispered hoarsely, placing a finger under her chin to look her in the eye. "We have to stop."

Hurt flashed in her eyes and he kissed her in an instant. "Not that I want to, you understand, but we're in the library and I'm enjoying myself far too much…" He trailed off with an innocent grin and a gentle push of his hips into hers.

She bit her lip and looked at him questioningly. "We could go somewhere else."

"Oh god, Hermione, don't tempt me!" The corner of her mouth turned up. "You know I have Quidditch in a bit. And if I'm late one more time, Harry's going to--Oh, god, don't do that." Her hand, which had been traversing lazily across his chest, had reached his arousal. He covered it with his hand and brought it back to his chest. "It isn't nice to tease."

She leaned forward and kissed him blindingly, then in a flash was gathering her things and making to leave.

She stopped and turned to him just before she disappeared out of sight. She raised an eyebrow. "Revenge is sweet, Ron."

Then she was gone.

Ron didn't move for a long moment, and when he did it was to put his head in his hands in a decided slump.

 _That woman will be the death of me._

Then he smiled.

 _And what a delicious death it will be._


	11. Distracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was dedicated to [claireyfairy1](http://claireyfairy1.livejournal.com), **darkened_winter** , [Invisblegrl](http://invisblegrl.livejournal.com), and [Apougalicious](http://apougalicious.livejournal.com), who were all great support while it was being written. Title taken from Ani Difranco's patter on disc 2 of _Living in Clip_. Phrases taken from: _Forces of Nature_ , 'Shades of Grey' as recorded by CryCryCry, and _Strictly Ballroom._ Reminder: this was written pre- _OotP_.

Hot sun beat down on Ron as he watched the Quidditch match from his position in front of the Gryffindor hoops. Ravenclaw's team was weak this year-–although some of them were giving Hermione a run for her money in the N.E.W.T.S. category-–and as satisfying as it was to not worry about a victory, he had to admit that he was getting _bored_. The Ravenclaw Chasers had barely got near him for the past fifteen minutes, and the few times they'd attempted to score, he could have stopped them blindfolded.

 _Blindfolded..._ Carnal images exploded in his sun-drenched head and he nearly fell off his broom.

 _Dear God. I have got to stop coming up with these things._

Trying to breathe, he quickly forced his focus back onto the game and was startled to see Harry shooting through the air with obvious intent. The second-year Ravenclaw Seeker had no chance to catch up before Harry triumphantly landed, his fist held high in the air.

Ron let out a whoop and flew down to the field. He landed and clapped Harry on the back, grinning from ear to ear as exuberant team-mates surrounded them. Harry opened his mouth to say something to Ron but then his eyes grew large and he let out a yell instead. "Watch out!"

Ron whipped around but wasn't quick enough. The remainder of the Quidditch team had sneaked up behind them with the game ice-boxes--full of cold water by now--and Ron and Harry were suddenly drenched.

"Oi!" Ron shouted, trying to sound upset but grinning like a fool. He ran a hand over his face, blinking to get the water out of his eyes.

Harry was amused as well, but started in on them while he wiped his glasses on his robe. "Not a smart thing to do to the captain, ladies and gentlemen!" Everyone groaned and he smirked. "Good game, everybody. But we _mustn't_ forget ourselves before the next one!"

"Yes, mum," Ron managed through his laughter.

"Oh, shove off." Harry looked sternly at them, then grinned. "Right. Now, let's go have a proper celebration."

Ron nodded and they started up the hill together. He quickly stripped off his soggy robes and threw them over his arm. The white t-shirt he wore clung to him wetly; his trousers were in an equally sad state. He was suddenly glad his mum wasn't there to fuss over him catching cold and had a thought that Hermione would do much the same. He chortled and Harry looked at him questioningly. "Nothing."

Harry smirked, able to tell who was on Ron's mind. He leaned over conspiratorially as they reached the front hall and started up the stairs. "How are things?"

Ron tried not to make a face. "Spectacular," he said with obvious distaste.

"What?" Harry seemed shocked. "I thought you—"

Ron cut him off. "Yeah, we did. So I should be ecstatic, right?" His head flooded with images he tried desperately to push back: her writhing beneath him, calling out his name—and the sickening memories of what she'd said.

Harry studied him for a moment. "Did you try to tell her?"

"Yes." He gritted his teeth.

"And?"

He paused, then spit it out. "She bloody _shushed_ me, Harry," he hissed. "Told me not to say it."

Harry had obviously not expected that. "Why?"

"I'm not sure." It wasn't exactly a lie; he had agonized over it for hours without coming to a real conclusion. Harry gave him a prying look and he relented, lowering his voice even further. "Well, all right, I expect it's because I said it while I was—-" He stopped. "—-in the thick of things."

Harry nearly choked. "That was daft."

Ron shot him a glare. "I'm aware of that now, thank you. But what was I supposed to do? For most of it I was worried about keeping her interest, for Christ's sake, then I was just completely--"

"Ron." A voice caught him off guard right before they reached the portrait hole.

He turned so quickly Harry nearly ran into him. "Hermione?" _Oh, Jesus, Jesus! She heard!_ His brain flew all to pieces.

She walked towards them and smiled. "Good catch, Harry." She turned to Ron. "I need to speak to you," she said sternly, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the group of boys.

Ron barely heard the whoops echoing behind him. "Hermione, if this is about what I was just saying to Harry, I–-"

"No." She shook her head and pressed her lips firmly together, leading him down the hall. He was so busy thinking up explanations that he didn't realize where they were going until they came to a halt.

In front of an empty classroom down a small hallway with a trick door.

His stomach rolled over and he looked at her, trying not to seem too shocked. "You need to speak to me-–here?"

She didn't look at him, just raised her wand to open the door. Her hand tugged his and he followed her inside, still feeling slightly dazed and trying not to dream up any more lewd images in anticipation of something that had a very slim chance of actually _happening._

She walked him to the far end of the room, which was lined with bookshelves and desks. The bookshelves were full, though it looked like no one had touched them in decades. His mind whirled with the possibilities, and he shook his head, trying to force out an image of Hermione pressed against the bookcase, shuddering around him as he surged into her-—

"No, Ron." He looked up suddenly to find her regarding him matter-of-factly from her seat on a desk directly in front of him. "I didn't quite catch what you were saying to Harry, honestly." She paused and Ron felt her warm palm travel lightly up his fore-arm, along the sensitive inside of his elbow. "I was a bit-–" She paused, searching for a suitable word. Then she nodded slightly and a soft glint appeared in her eyes. "–-distracted."

His throat was suddenly dry. He watched, fascinated, as her hand followed the curves of his arm to his chest, smoothing his wet shirt against his skin. She stopped over his heart, and her lips curved upwards as she felt its rapid pace.

He covered her hand with his own, stilling its movements. She looked up at him in surprise and a corner of his mouth turned up. "You said you needed to speak to me. That—" He gently squeezed her hand. "—is not exactly conducive to talking."

She colored slightly and pulled her hand away, biting her lip and not quite looking him in the eye.

"What is it?" He was suddenly irrationally sure that she was going to reveal a horrible bit of information.

Her chin jutted up slightly. "Well, honestly, I didn't think you'd make it this difficult."

Ron sputtered. "How exactly am I making this difficult? I'm just following orders!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron! I was lying!"

Ron's mind kind of gyrated and he couldn't be sure what exactly she was talking about. "About what?"

She rolled her eyes. "About needing to speak to you." She crossed her arms and looked up at him, as if daring him to admonish her.

A rush of something filled his chest, feeling like a flood, and his mouth curved into a rather victorious grin. "Shame on you, Ms. Granger." He crossed his arms and mirrored her position teasingly.

"Oh, please, don't lecture me," she scoffed, lowering her hands resolutely to her sides. "It won't have any merit, seeing as you're an incorrigible delinquent."

He slowly leaned towards her, stretching the silence until he could hear her breathe. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Hermione." She started and he knew she could hear the want in his voice. He did want her--he always wanted her. And here she was, pulling him into an empty classroom and acting like a randy bird. He felt like a first year in a candy store. And he wanted to play.

He pulled away slightly and his lips curved into a half-smile. "So? Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?"

Her cheeks pinked a bit but she didn't break his gaze. "No." She reached a hand to the plane of his stomach and slowly smoothed down his still-wet shirt until she reached his belt. The air stopped tight in his lungs. "I don't think it's necessary." He willed himself not to close his eyes as her fingers sneaked under his shirt, feeling like hot ice on his damp skin as they wandered across his abdomen. "You should really get out of these wet clothes, you know."

"Should I, now?" His voice was surprisingly steady, considering the havoc she was wreaking on his ability to breathe normally.

She nodded coolly and both her hands made their way under the fabric, gently guiding it up towards his shoulders. He kept his eyes on her face, fleetingly wondering if he was missing something, but she seemed entirely focused upon one thing and one thing only—-him. _And God forbid that I should stand in the way._

She pulled on the fabric and he lifted his arms, feeling damp air move past his face, and his shirt went falling to the floor in a heavy heap. The cold of the room jumped at him, making him sharply aware of his half-naked state, but he shook off any lingering self-consciousness and concentrated on the feeling of her hands playing across the skin of his stomach. She had started this, and he wanted to see exactly how far she would go.

"I’m going to have to wear that again, you know," he said offhandedly.

She snickered delicately. "Shirts wash, Ron." Her hands made their way back to his belt, then stopped. The corner of her mouth turned up, and he felt her fingers trace him through the fabric of his trousers.

The breath hissed out of him instantly and he had to stop himself from thrusting into her hand. "Hermione…" Her name barely escaped his lips as his eyes slid shut as his blood started to roar in his ears.

Then her touch was gone. His stomach dropped a few inches and he opened his eyes—just in time to feel her hands making short work of his belt. It fell with a slight chink to the floor. He had to restrain himself from throwing himself at her right then and there, because the look on her face was priceless. _My, my_. He couldn't let the opportunity pass. "The only other time I've seen you look like that was when Flourish and Blott's got a new shipment of Arithmancy books."

"Oh, shush." He could see her struggling against a smile. "As if you mind."

He put up his hands and shook his head. "Nope, no, not at all."

"Good." She smirked. "So, may I?" She gestured lightly towards his trousers and he nearly choked.

Recovering quickly, he raised an eyebrow at her. "How come I keep ending up without my clothes?"

She laughed. "Sorry?"

"Not as sorry as I am." He reached a hand up and fingered the collar of her shirt.

She considered him for a moment, then looked at him matter-of-factly. "I don't want to get my clothes wet. Or dirty."

Ron put his hand to his heart. "Heaven forbid!" he said mock-tragically. She shot him a look and he acquiesced. "I think that perhaps…" His finger trailed its way down her cheek to the smooth skin of her neck, hedging along the line where skin met clothing. Her lips parted slightly. "…we can manage that." He reached the first button and slowly slid it out of its place, his fingers light on her skin, reveling in the way her eyes slid shut and her chin tilted up just a bit.

She looked bloody fantastic.

He leaned down to put his lips next to her ear as his hands continued to make short work of her buttons. "You know, Hermione," he whispered. "You're beautiful." Her breath came out in a soft moan and he grinned against her skin. His lips found her neck and traced their way up her jaw. Her breathing grew shallow and he swore he heard his name in a whisper of air.

 _Brilliant._ He moved his head down to her breasts, no longer covered by her shirt but enticingly encased in her bra. He felt her fingers lace into his hair and smiled before taking one fabric-covered nipple into his mouth. He heard her moan above him and he struggled to stay on task. His tongue moved over the smooth fabric, lovingly favouring the other nipple until she was breathing raggedly and tugging at his hair.

He straightened and lifted his hands to her face, studying her for a moment. He couldn't help but smile.

And when she smiled back at him, great want cascaded into him, tearing the air out of his lungs, and he had to kiss her or drown trying.

Her lips were warm and she kissed him willingly, her tongue making its way across his lips to meet his. Sensations chased themselves around his body and he began to feel incredibly warm all over. Her hands danced across his skin, ending at the fastening of his trousers, and he groaned into her mouth.

He tore away from her lips for a moment to shoot her a warning look. His eyes glinted wickedly. "Ladies first."

Her mouth opened then closed again as he slid both his hands up her thighs, under the fabric of her skirt. Her breath hitched in her lungs and she made the most appetizing noise as he glided up her warm skin.

He stifled a groan and leaned in to kiss her, his fingers slipping past damp fabric and her gasp tumbling into his mouth. He found exactly what he was looking for and her mouth tore away from his, her body shuddering at the onslaught of sensation. "Oh, God, Ron…"

He liked the sound of that. He kissed his way down to her neck, nibbling softly as his fingers continued their gentle work. Her back arched and her thighs clenched together on to his hand. "Ron, please…" Her voice was liquid.

"Please what?" he said softly into her skin.

"Please." She sucked in a breath and her hips moved into his hand. He nearly didn't want to stop. He wanted to see what she would look like if he simply kept going. Another day, perhaps…

"Because you asked so nicely…" He stilled his hand's movements and captured her lips again. Her tongue moved against his and his mind whirled. Her hand laced into his hair and urged him to move until he was standing nestled between her legs. It felt wonderful, having her warm body pressed again him willingly, her legs around him.

 _Home._

She slid her hands down his back, moving under the waistband of his trousers and boxers and tracing around his hips. He broke the kiss and sucked in a breath as she teased him with her fingers while unfastening his remaining article of outer clothing. "You know…" His voice was hoarse and he swallowed roughly. "I've warned you where this kind of thing will lead."

She kissed him with amusement playing on her lips. "I'm aware." She kissed him again, filling his mind with haze, and he barely registered his trousers swishing down his legs. His arms found their way around her and he tightened his body against hers urgently.

She pulled back a mere centimeter, long enough for him to hear her whisper the magic words. "That's exactly why I brought you here."

All the air left his lungs in one fell swoop and he clutched her body to his desperately, kissing her until they were both wild with want. His hands slid under her skirt and urged her hips up so he could divest her of her damp knickers. He touched her again, unable to resist, and she gasped as her hips bucked against him. "Not fair, Ron." She threw her head back and reveled in his touch and he suddenly had the urge to taste her again, to hear her cry out his name.

He slowly knelt, never losing contact with her, thoroughly enjoying her gasps and the movements of her body. He knew it wouldn't take much but when he reached in and felt her on his lips he never wanted it to end. His tongue darted out and her back arched, a shuddering moan escaping her lips. Ron felt like a hero. He thoroughly enjoyed himself, using his tongue and lips until she was shuddering into him, moving fingers inside of her until she cried out his name and clenched around him.

He rose and slid his arms around her waist, letting her lean against him as she tried to slow her breathing. His fingers ran lazily through her hair and it seemed he had a permanent smile on his face.

After a moment, she looked up at him, flushed and satisfied. "Thank you."

He grinned and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Anytime, Hermione. Anytime." He leaned in to kiss her and nearly choked when he felt her hands send his boxers to the floor to join the rest of his clothing. "What—-"

She put a finger over his lips quickly. "Turnabout's fair play, Ron." He suddenly found himself flush against her body, her legs wrapped around him, pushing him achingly close to bliss. She kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth purposefully, and lost himself in it, his skin tingling where it touched hers.

He felt her hands slide across his skin to settle at the small of his back, and gasped into her mouth when she gently pulled him inside of her. His eyes slid shut and he groaned out her name, burying his face in her neck. It was absolute bliss. No other word. He moved into her instinctually, fire spreading to his belly and his breath gasping in his lungs.

"Ron… " Her voice was soft. He stilled his movements and lifted his head to look her in the eye. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn't stop himself from slowly sliding in and out of her. He gave her a lingering soft kiss, then looked at her questioningly.

"Is this—okay?"

She smiled, a trace of indulgence hidden in her lips. "Yes, Ron. Of course. I-–" She stopped abruptly and kissed him intently before he had a chance to wonder what she had nearly said. Her legs tightened around him and she kissed him until he couldn't think, couldn't kiss her, couldn't do anything but thrust in and out as heat coiled inside him desperately.

His hand slid into her hair and he gently pulled her forehead to his, holding her body as if they could somehow become one. He moaned her name and plunged into her deeply, her heated breath on his skin as she gasped. The sound drove him to a fever pitch. His movements quickened, his body was beyond his control, and soon he lost all sense of reality and shuddered into her, crying out her name in supplication.

He slowly became aware of her hands moving on his back in comforting patterns. He lifted his head and kissed her lightly, reveling in the glow on her cheeks and the smile in her eyes. "Thank you…" The words were inadequate, but they were all he was allowed to give.

She smiled gently and brushed a lock of damp hair back from his forehead. He kissed her again, indulging in the softness of her lips. The air was warm and sweet around them, but the dankness of the room suddenly came back to him and he drew her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her hair softly.

"We should go." Her voice held no urgency or reproach.

He chuckled. "Yes, we should." He heard her sigh and felt her burrow more thoroughly into his embrace.

And they stayed like that for a long while.


	12. Checkmated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to [Claireyfairy1](http://claireyfairy1.livejournal.com). Thanks to [andrufish](http://andrufish.livejournal.com) for one of the questions. Half of one line stolen from _Singin in the Rain_.

"Aaaaand GRYFFINDOR _WINS!!_ "

Wild shouts from the crowd engulfed the teams and Ron grinned like a loon from his spot at the posts, his blood pumping through his body like a madman's.

_We fucking did it._

And damn it felt good.

He wiped the sweat off his face and pointed his broom to the pitch below, hoping that Hermione would be amongst the screaming crowd-—and dreaming that she'd greet him properly. The thought made his stomach flutter in a very schmoopy way.

He barely had time to land before a red-headed blur barrelled into him and enveloped him in a tight hug. He pulled back and tried to breathe, laughing at the absolute glee on his sister's face. "Ginny, I swear, you're turning into Mum!" He had to shout above the celebratory noise.

"Shut it, you silly sod!" she shouted back. "We've just won the Goddamn Quidditch Cup!" Something caught her eye behind him and she gave him a knowing look before turning to go. "I'll see you later!" she called over her shoulder. "You'll come have a drink with me and Harry, right?" She didn't wait for his answer.

"Right," Ron muttered to himself. "So you can get me pissed and force me to embarrass myself in public ag—" He trailed off when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find himself facing Hermione, her eyes twinkling and her cheeks pink from being outside.

She looked absolutely delectable.

Ron found himself leaning down as if to kiss her, and jerked back immediately, feeling slightly ill.

She raised an eyebrow and his heart rose a little. She put her lips next to his ear so he could hear her. "Do you want something?"

He pulled back and searched her eyes, not quite believing that she had the gall to tease him in public. "Of course." He forgot to shout over the din, but she seemed to understand. She stood for a moment, looking at him intently.

And miraculously, she reached up and touched her lips to his.

It was the chastest of kisses, but it took a Quidditch-stimulated Ron entirely too close to the edge. _Smashing_ , he thought wryly. _She barely kisses me and I immediately want to have it away with her._

He fought to ignore the people around them, and the fact that many of them probably wanted his attention. The voices faded as he considered her face. He brought a hand to her cheek, smoothing a finger across her wind-cooled skin. There was a look in her eyes he did not dare discern, but suddenly he was engulfed by that unguarded emotion he'd been ignoring wholeheartedly since they'd started this--the urge for breakfasts and grandkids and Christmas trees--and an end to this game. An end to feeling fucked with or fucked up all the time.

Her voice struck him from his introspection. She looked like she was waiting for something. "Ron, I--"

"Oi, Weasley, you bleeding tosser!" Ron heard Dean's voice and stifled a groan. "Stop feeling up the Head Girl and come celebrate with your house!"

Ron watched her face closely, but she didn't seem offended. He smiled lightly, then held out his arm. "Care to tear a pheasant in my company, m'lady?"

Hermione took his arm, obviously suppressing laughter. "I suppose I could deign to lower myself to that level." They moved with the rest of the group up the lawn towards the castle.

"She slays me, boys!" Ron shouted for the crowd to hear. There was smattered laughter.

"So _that's_ what they're calling it these days!" Jo, the fastest Chaser on the Gryffindor team, voiced tauntingly in reply.

He sneaked a glance at Hermione and caught her rolling her eyes, but her hand stayed on his arm, warm and very much willing. They made it to the common room like that, snug amidst team chatter and joviality. As soon as they stepped through the portrait hole, the crowd descended and he felt her leave his side as someone pushed a mug into his hand. He grinned at his teammates and took the obligatory drink, but his eyes never left her as she made her way towards the fireside chairs—-where, he suddenly noticed, Ginny and Harry were engaged in an intense discussion. _Well, well._

He caught Ginny's furtive glance in his direction. Then she glanced at Hermione, and Ron caught a glimpse of trouble. _Oh no you don't._

Neville thumped him on the back and he blinked. "Oi, Ron, that was a fantastic match!"

"Thanks, mate," he returned distractedly. Thankfully, Neville's attention wandered quickly, as had the rest of the party's, to the star players of the game. And Jo and Natalie were soaking up the attention quite nicely. Thankful for the lack of adulation, Ron moved towards the fireplace, eyeing his sister warily.

"All right there, Gin?"

She nodded. "All right, Ron." She gestured towards a squashy armchair. "Go on."

Ron snorted. "Not until I find out what you're up to."

"Nothing." She batted her eyelashes at him, looking startlingly like the twins at their worst.

Hermione laughed wryly. "You have learned such bad habits from your brothers."

Ginny cocked her eyebrow and took a stalling drink. "Fine." She took on a no-nonsense tone. "We're going to play a game, and neither of you get to argue with me about it." She shot them a look that most certainly proved she was the daughter of Molly Weasley, and Ron fell into a chair with a resigned sigh, taking a long drink and trying not to imagine what torture his 'baby' sister was planning this time. He shot a glare at Harry but got an 'I didn't do it' look in return.

"It's simple, really. When it's your turn, you say, 'Never have I ever…' and give some outrageous fact, like 'shagged Snape'." Ron made a gagging sound. "If you've done it, you drink. If anybody else has done it, they drink." She looked at the group. "You think you can manage that?"

Hermione looked wary. "Must we do it here?" She gestured towards the crowd of nearly-sloshed partiers.

Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged. "They're not paying attention." Hermione looked doubtful, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Right." She picked up her wand and waved it about, muttering something. Suddenly the noise from the party disappeared, and Ron watched, mystified, as the crowd's lips continued to move but no sound reached his ears. "That should last us a good hour."

"Wicked, Gin." He reached over to fluff his little sister's hair but she ducked easily and pushed him back into his seat.

"Let's get this started, shall we?" She paused, then got a wicked glint in her eye. "This’ll be fun. Never have I ever…pulled a Slytherin." Harry guffawed.

Ron tried not to wince. "Bollocks." He lifted his cup to have a drink.

Ginny scoffed at him. "Oh, please! Who?"

Ron looked at her petulantly. "As if I would tell you."

Harry smirked. "Tracey Davis, wasn't it?"

Ron gave Harry a death glare. "Good to know I can count on your confidence, mate." He sat back to take another drink and saw Hermione's expression. "It was ages ago, Hermione." A half-truth, if you counted months as long periods of time.

She considered him, obviously not pleasantly surprised. "You weren't seeing her, were you?" Ron shook his head. "You just--gave her one?" The words were laced with disgust.

Ron nearly choked on his drink. "Good Lord, Hermione." Those were the last words he expected to come out of her mouth. "You could say that." His face flushed, he looked to his sister pleadingly. "Whose go?"

"Hers." She smirked at him and pointed at Hermione.

"Me? Oh, for goodness' sake." Hermione sighed dramatically and thought for a moment. "Never have I ever…called anyone's mum a tart," she said with satisfaction, shooting a triumphant look at Ron. "Drink."

 _She's trying to get me liquored up,_ Ron thought with a grin, pushing aside the unpleasant memory of what had happened last time he'd been drunk around her. He took a long swig, his eyes never leaving hers. His stomach warmed considerably.

"Oh, bugger." Ginny drank grudgingly. "Though I'd argue that it doesn’t count, as the mum involved was Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry looked pained. "I dunno. Have I?" He looked around for confirmation.

Ron chuckled. "Not around me. Your dearest darling auntie, perhaps?"

Harry shook his head. "No, she doesn't deserve to be called something that pleasant." He grinned. "But what the hell." And he took a drink anyway.

Ginny looked at her brother expectantly. "You're next."

Ron was quick. "Never have I ever...fooled around in the library." _Ha! Got her!_ he thought triumphantly, and snickered madly as Hermione's face flushed bright red and she took a reluctant sip.

Ginny and Harry laughed at both of them. "Mighty fine suggestion," Harry mused, eyeing Ginny unabashedly.

Ron groaned and took a long drink. "Right, moving on…"

Harry grinned. "Never have I ever...cheated on an exam." Hermione made an indignant noise…then gasped audibly when all three of them took a drink.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, how else would any of us pass Potions?" Ron flashed her a grin, and she rolled her eyes.

Ginny shifted in her seat and raised her glass at Ron. "Never have I ever…messed around while my parents were home." She drank unhurriedly.

Ron laughed. "I'm not that daft." He raised his own glass mockingly, but didn't drink. "And don't think Mum didn't know," he added casually.

Ginny sputtered. "Tell me you're joking."

"Would I joke about a thing like that?" Ron feigned indignance. "Just because I’m pure of heart—-"

"Oh, bugger off." Ginny sat back into her seat and took another drink.

Hermione's cheeks were a bit flushed but she looked pleased with herself. "Never have I ever…broken a law, Wizarding or Muggle."

"Oh Merlin." Ron took a long drink, exchanging a glance with Harry. "Though I would also argue, this time in light of the fact that I was attempting to get Harry out of the depths of hell." He remembered that night flight with fondness now. "Anyway," he continued, "it's my go." He thought for a moment. "Never have I ever...been caught bashing the bish--" He looked at the girls. "--or the like." _Jesus, I must be getting wankered._

Ginny made a disgusted noise and covered her eyes. "I am _not_ watching this."

Harry raised his hand jokingly. "Do mates count? I mean, really, it's not as though we don't hear Dean and Nevi—-"

"Oh my Lord, please stop this instant." Hermione turned her eyes towards the heavens. "These are things I never needed to hear. Honestly."

Ron clarified with a smirk. "No, it only counts if you’ve had someone actually walk in and see the deed being done. And yes, parents count," he added in Ginny's direction.

She glared at him and took a swig. "You have to drink too, then." He felt his ears burn but he took a drink anyway.

Harry cocked his head at Ron. "Never have I ever...lied to get some."

Ron groaned. Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, come on, you're not that much of a lad, are you Ron?"

Ron looked at her and shrugged, then took a swig. She looked thoroughly entertained. "I thought you were a better person than that." She shook her head. "Boys."

Harry tried to defend himself. "Oi! I've never done it!"

She snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Yes you have."

Harry looked shocked. "I have not!"

Ginny was not budging. "Please! You think I can't tell?"

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. Ron couldn't stifle a laugh. "She's got you, mate. Drink up."

Harry looked positively piqued as he took a reluctant drink, muttering. "Little lies, honestly. Nothing _really_ bad."

Ginny patted him on the head. "I forgive you, dear." She looked around. "Oh, my go, isn't it? Never have I ever...been with anyone I didn't love."

Harry waved his hand interruptively. "Hang on, does that mean snogging or shagging or what? And 'loved' or 'was in love _with_ '?

"Oh-—erm-—sex, real sex-—and in love." Ginny had a glint in her eye that Ron didn't like, but he knew full well she wouldn't be drinking. Then he noticed Hermione and Harry glancing at each other. He watched, perplexed, as Hermione nodded slightly and they both raised their glasses for a drink.

_Oh, hell._

Ron nearly heard the click as everything fell into place. Suddenly, it seemed as if time had slowed down. All the bright colors of the room churned and he couldn't think.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." The words slipped out of his mouth. "You've got to be joking." His eyes moved hazily from face to face.

It was obviously not a joke.

His mouth opened but the words seemed stuck. "You're serious." Their gazes didn't waver. His eyes lingered on Hermione, who flushed a bit before sticking her chin out defiantly. "You—slept—with—Harry."

"Yes." Harry sounded very sad, but Ron couldn't quite hear it.

"That's not possible. I would have known." The words were spilling out of his mouth in slippery succession. "You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a look, and Hermione sought Ron's eyes. "Ron, it only happened once--"

"Once!" The word exploded out of his mouth and Hermione started. "That's more than enough, Hermione! I can't believe you!"

Ginny's low warning cut across the tension. "Ron..."

Ron waved a hand at her, his instinct snapping into place. "Right, mustn't let Ron get out of hand." He stood up quickly, his blood roiling with alcohol and pain, and looked at each of them in turn. "I expect this is very funny to you, isn't it, planning this little scene at my expense?" Ginny looked at him, aghast, and opened her mouth but he had moved on. He looked steadily at Harry, his eyes burning. "You knew. You've always known. And you fucked her." Hermione's gasp registered in Ron's conscious but he couldn't stop. "And you never told me. Some best mate you are."

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione's voice ripped into him, and he noticed that she, too, had stood up. "I wouldn't let Harry tell you. He wanted to, very badly in fact. But I thought I could deal with it. Obviously, I've done an awful job with that, but I did what I thought was right." Her voice trembled just the slightest bit and his heart lurched with a sick mix of disgust and love. "I didn't expect it to come out this way—" Ginny and Harry had the grace to look a bit ashamed. "--but it's just as well."

Ron's hands were shaking. "Bloody hell, Hermione! How _could_ you?"

"It's quite simple, really--Harry is a dear friend and I needed someone."

Pain piled upon pain in Ron's chest. _What about me?_ He wanted to shake her. "Oh, so you thought you'd just sneak off for a bit of a how's your father?"

Harry laughed dryly and Ron's head snapped over at The Boy Who Shagged Hermione, who had a horrible look of annoyance mixed with sadness on his face. "We didn't have to sneak, Ron. You didn't notice."

Ginny was quick with a biting comment. "Yeah, you were too busy shagging some nameless tart—"

"Oi!" Ron cut in quickly. "I never shagged any of them!" His eyes went to Hermione instantly. "None of them."

"Well, bully for you, you git." Ginny's voice struck him down again. "You were still _with_ them, and you _should_ have been with Hermione."

"Ginny, please." Hermione's cool voice interrupted Ginny's castigation. "I can explain." Her eyes never left his. "We went to each for comfort, Harry and I. And the moment it was over—-" She flushed a little. "-—we both knew it wasn't going to happen again. He wanted it to be Ginny and I wanted it to be you, of course." Her eyes flashed to Harry's with a small smile. "We don't regret it. But it's in the past. Ginny loves him—-" She smiled at Ginny and Ron had the feeling that their friendship had gone through a lot of grief over this. "—-and you-—Well..." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You love me enough."

Ron nearly asked her to repeat herself. "Enough?" he echoed numbly.

"Well, yes," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Ron, don't expect me to take mid-coital declarations as binding agreements. You're under no obligation to be in love with me."

 _...under no obligation..._ The words thudded around in his head, madly bouncing off of each other and pouncing on his last nerves. Emotion welled up from his toes, coursing through him like an avalanche. His voice came out in low, raw tones. "There is most certainly a fucking obligation here."

She hadn't expected that, he could tell. Anger flashed in her eyes, and pain, and that beautiful stubborness he normally found so enticing. "Excuse me?"

He took a shallow breath and ignored the fear in his chest. "I’m in this regardless, Hermione."

Her eyes narrowed. "Regardless of what?"

"Regardless of why you think I’m in this."

Her face closed off suddenly. "I think you're in this because it suits you, Ron, and that will have to do." Her tone allowed for no argument, and she smiled apologetically at the group and quickly made her escape. "I think I'm off to bed now."

Ginny touched her arm. "I'll come with you." She looked back at Harry, a question in her eyes, and he nodded shortly.

It was too much. Ron's mind felt like an absolute mess. Blindly, his hand reached for her, his fingers grazing her cheek. "Please, Hermione, I'm sor—-"

Her lips tightened and she cut him off, subtly moving out of his reach. "Ron, I don't need apologies. I just want this all to be over." She swallowed and blinked hard. "Goodnight." She grabbed Ginny's hand and they climbed the stairs, silently supporting each other. Ron watched them until they disappeared.

"Listen, Ron, I—-"

Ron rounded on Harry. "You bastard."

Harry's face clouded over. "I am _not_ the bad guy here, Ron."

"Oh, so you think it's somehow my fault that my best friend shagged the girl I'm in love with?"

"Yes, actually."

Ron felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing his lungs. "Fuck you!"

Harry ignored the epithet, his voice low. "You've been a real wanker about this, Ron."

"How?"

"Bloody hell, Ron, don't be stupid!" Harry was angrier than Ron could ever remember seeing him. "You were too bloody caught up in yourself to notice that she needed someone. She wanted it to be you! How could you have not known that? She waited for you through your flirting and your pulling and your nights out. Hermione waited for you to grow up, Ron, and notice that you had something outstanding right in front of you. But you didn't notice, did you? You came onto her like you came on to every other one of them."

"She has always meant more!"

"Yes, well, you might want to try telling her that."

Ron refused to let Harry make him feel like a cornered animal. "I did, you prat! You know I did!"

Harry's fists clenched at his sides. "Do _not_ take this out on me, Ron."

Ron's own fists tightened. "Why the hell not? A _decent_ bloke doesn't just sleep with his best mate's woman!"

Harry's voice got deadly quiet. "She wasn't yours, Ron. She still isn't. She's free to make her own decisions."

Ron felt anger in his toes and there was a rushing sound in his ears. "That's not the sodding point!" He found himself inches from Harry. "You shouldn't have fucking done it!"

"I wasn't the only one involved, Ron!" Harry didn't back down. He was furious. "She _wanted_ to!"

Before Ron knew what was happening, his fist had cracked against Harry's jaw, and Harry had staggered back, slumped over, his hand on his face. Ron couldn’t stop shaking.

Suddenly, the noise of the room exploded back into his ears. Whispers from the now-hushed crowd hissed past him.

Harry looked up at him. For a moment, all seemed still. The air was heavy. Ron had no more words, just a deep ache.

After a moment, Harry made a movement to leave. He paused and met Ron’s eyes for a lingering moment. "She never loved me." Ron realized Harry's eyes were shining, an he knew it wasn't because of his fist. "Don’t fuck this up on ceremony."

Ron stood stuck, years of friendship failing him, and watched Harry walk away.

::

[Well, everyone, here's the Outtake Nobody Wanted - banned from [Checkmated](http://www.checkmated.com) and shunned by its peers. Thalia asked me to write an outtake to her wonderful tale of lust and eclairs, [Just Desserts](http://thalialunacy.insanejournal.com/1530.html). Read that first, if you haven't. This takes place before the start of that story. Rated somewhere between PG-13 and R. 

Don't flame me or I'll sue.]

  
**LONELINESS**

by Jane 

The halls were empty and quiet. The air outside the castle was still. Hermione Granger stood frozen in front of a window as the light from the brilliant moon cast over her. She was perfectly still, trying to hold onto that light, looking down past her robes, past the shining tops of her shoes and at the floor.

She was supposed to be checking the corridors for students out past 9 o’clock. She was supposed to be securing and watching and patrolling and being Head Girl and smugly sending errant students back to their Common Rooms. She’d started out that way, even, but the day and the hour and her life had made her head pound. 

Ron made her head pound. 

His words to her earlier in the day had plagued her since they’d slipped from his mouth. He’d been blabbering about girls, again, and she’d had enough. 

_It hurt, to hear him talk about girls all the time. What had happened to him? He wasn’t always this way. What had happened to the awkward and slightly bashful boy she’d known? The one who she thought had... well._

_“You know, Ron, there are more important things in this world than girls.”_

_He looked at her in irritation. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it. Anger, probably. That he talked about every girl but her._

_“Like studying?” His voice was caustic. But she didn’t flinch._

_“Well, yes,” she snapped. She felt the words coming out of her without her permission. The same old Hermione garbage she always said. “NEWTs are coming up, and–”_

_“You know, Hermione,” Ron interrupted angrily, “if you don’t loosen those knickers someday then nobody else will, either.”_

She’d tried, _tried_ , to tell herself that he was just angry, that he hadn’t meant to be disgusting and incredibly rude and insulting, that he hadn’t said that because he really thought no one would want her. 

Including him. 

But she knew better. She knew he meant it. Why else would he have said it? She had screamed at him for being obscene and disrespectful, and she was extremely put out for those reasons, but deep down, in the most honest place in her, she knew why it had truly bothered her. 

He didn’t find her desirable at all. 

She’d left the Common Room then, the words ringing in her ear, tears fighting their way forward. She could hear Harry berating him behind her. _“Why the hell would you say something like that to her? Don’t you ever think?”_

So she’d spent the day burying herself in school and avoiding him. Then she had begun performing her Head Girl duties in the same way, mechanically and with a lot of moping. Until she’d arrived at where she now stood. She’d been walking and looking at the floor, trudging really, mulling her sorry state of affairs (or lack thereof). And then she’d stopped by the window and noticed something that made her freeze on the spot, something completely ridiculous. 

There in the moonbeam, with light gliding off her patent leather Mary Janes and onto the ground, when she stood just so, she could see up her skirt in the reflection on polished floor. 

She almost laughed a time or two at how absurd she was. But when she’d stopped there in the light she’d seen it and she couldn’t look away. The hem of her robes looking back at her from the shining stone, then beneath it, the faint edge of her skirt, and then, under that... 

Blackness. 

She was fascinated and horrified. It was nothing, but it was so telling all at once. Up those skirts was a void. You know, _Hermione, if you don’t loosen those knickers someday then nobody else will, either._ She was so wrapped up in the image that she barely noticed her vision blurring slightly or the fat teardrop that splashed on the toe of her shoe. Stupid Ron. 

“Hermione, what are you doing?” 

Hermione jolted with a gasp at the unexpected voice that came from nowhere. She turned in the general direction of the sound and scowled. “Harry Potter, don’t you ever do that again.” 

The air beside her sighed and in a swish, an Invisibility Cloak was swept aside to reveal a morose-looking Harry with static-y hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Forgot I was wearing this.” 

“The cloak isn’t the issue. You can’t go sneaking up on people.” Hermione knew she was trying to cover her embarrassment, yet again, by scolding. She was beginning to hate herself. “And you’re not supposed to be out here.” 

“I got hungry,” he said, holding up a pastry. “I went to the kitchens.” He at least looked a bit sheepish. 

“Well, I should take away House points.” 

“Oh, come on, Hermione–” 

Hermione held up her hands and shook her head. “All right, all right. Just... just go back before someone else sees you and we both get in trouble.” She looked at her watch. “I should be getting back, too... we’ll walk together.” 

Harry nodded. “Okay.” 

They walked in silence for about a minute before Harry broke it. “So...” He scratched his head and straightened his glasses a little. “What were you doing over there?” 

Hermione swallowed and looked down at the floor again. _I was noticing that if I squinted hard I could see cobwebs between my legs._ “Nothing.” 

“Are you still upset over what Ron said to you?” 

Hermione felt herself slowing down and then stopping. _Tell him you’re fine. Everything’s fine._ “No,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too casual. “I barely remember it.” She laughed a bit, to show him that she didn’t care one way or the other. She knew it sounded forced. 

“Okay,” Harry said quietly. Then, after a pause, he said, “He didn’t mean it, you know.” 

Hermione felt a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed it down. “Oh?” she said, her voice wavering without her consent. “Hm. Since I don’t recall what he said, it doesn’t really matter.” 

“He just... you know, he–” 

“Harry.” Hermione felt her hands clench at her sides as she closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She opened them again and looked at her friend, who was looking back at her with a furrowed brow and with concern. She ignored it. “Let’s get moving before Filch finds us and starts squawking.”

She started walking again, but stopped when Harry blurted suddenly, “Ginny won’t talk to me.” 

Hermione turned. “What do you mean, she won’t talk to you?” 

Harry walked a few paces to catch up. “I mean... I said something that must’ve upset her because she’s acting a bit... chilly, I suppose.” He looked sad. “I don’t know what I said, though. I really don’t. Just... we were talking, and I don’t remember what about, and suddenly she was quiet and she had to go and now...” he trailed off, looking slightly bleak. “I don’t understand.” 

Hermione felt some of her air leave her as the two of them stood there in the hallway, weighed down by their romantic woes. It was sort of funny, really, all of it. She felt herself smile in spite of everything. “Bloody Weasleys,” she mumbled. 

Harry smiled back. “Honestly,” he said. They both giggled. 

Then, suddenly, Harry stopped and his eyes widened at something he saw over Hermione’s shoulder. Turning, she gasped when she saw Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, sitting at the end of the corridor, watching them. Hermione turned to Harry but before she could say anything, she heard the caretaker’s voice. 

“What have you found, my sweet?” Harry, looking frightened, reached out quickly and grabbed Hermione’s arm, dragging her into a nook in the wall that she hadn’t noticed before and flung the Invisibility Cloak over them in a panic. 

“Shh,” he said. 

They both froze, huddled together under the cloak, holding onto each other and not daring to breathe as they heard footsteps enter the corridor. 

There was silence for a moment before they heard Filch say, “They must’ve run off, my sweet... but we’ll find them.” 

As the footsteps began again and retreated further down the corridor, Hermione began to feel a bit strange about her proximity to Harry. She wasn’t sure why; she’d been under that cloak with him a million different times in as many situations, and nothing had ever felt strange before. She glanced over at him. He was looking out into the corridor, breathing a bit heavily, ears alert, bright green eyes shining with the intensity that they always got when he was being very serious. They were sort of pretty, really. She could see why Ginny– 

_Stop it._ Her reason lashed at her ego. _Don’t start this._

Hermione swallowed slowly and looked away from Harry. _But it feels sort of nice, doesn’t it? Cozy in a little hole in the wall with an attractive boy?_ Her ego lashed back.

_Ron made you feel inferior and now you’re feeling lonesome. Don’t be stupid. Harry’s not attractive. He’s Harry._

The ego did not relent. _He is attractive. Loads of girls think so. And he’s holding me, hiding in a corner. When will this ever happen again with a boy? Never, according to Ron._

 _See?_ Reason took over. _Just because of what Ron said, Harry is suddenly an attractive boy? This situation needs to change before you do something you’ll regret. You’re going insane._

It dawned on Hermione that she had every right to be walking about. She had no reason to hide; Harry was the one who was breaking the rules. She didn’t have to be in that nook with him. She was beginning to really wish she was anywhere but where she was. The thoughts she was having were disturbing. She turned to tell him she could leave, but he put his hand over her mouth before she could start. 

“Shhh,” he said angrily. 

Hermione glared at him and pushed his hand away. “I’m not going to get in trouble,” she whispered fiercely. “I’m not doing anything wrong.” 

Harry scowled. “Well, no, but now he’ll catch me if you make noise. So hush.” 

“Argh.” Hermione grunted in annoyance. It was beginning to feel awfully close in that nook. 

“SHH!” 

“You shh,” she grumbled. She was trying to avoid looking at him. “I’m sure Filch is gone by now.” 

“The last thing I need is to get caught by that old goat,” he whispered. Hermione felt herself twitch slightly at the feel of his breath in her ear. When had he got that close? “I want to be sure.” 

“Well,” Hermione said haughtily, turning her head, hoping that looking him in the eye would make her feel normal again. “How long before–” 

The rest of the sentence never saw the light of day; it died in her throat when she found his face an inch from hers. His eyes were so beautiful, not cold and distant as Ron’s had been lately, and in them she saw caring and sorrow and hurt that mirrored hers. She tried to work her voice, to finish, to ask when they could leave, but it only caught there, just before her mouth. _Why is he looking at me like that?_

“We... erm. We can go now, I think,” Harry whispered, his words brushing her lips and giving her a shiver. “He’s probably gone.” 

Hermione opened her mouth to agree and then closed it again. Her throat still felt stuck. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” she said shakily. She worked hard to say more. _Tell him you’re tired and it’s been a long day._ “I just...” Her tongue felt like dust. “Harry, do you think I’m pretty?” 

The question slipped out unbidden and Hermione felt like shriveling up onto the floor. Harry looked extremely surprised. Her reason was beginning to crumble and it wasn’t very pleased by that fact. _NO! You were supposed to tell him you’re tired! What are you doing?_

“I think you’re quite pretty,” Harry said. “It makes me sad that you had to ask me to realize it.” 

Her ego was triumphant. _What’s wrong with an attractive boy thinking I’m pretty?_ “Thanks,” she said softly. 

Harry swallowed, then, and looked down briefly before meeting her eyes again. “Do you think... um...” He stopped. 

“What is it?” Hermione asked quietly. 

Harry looked as if he were struggling with something. Then he said, “Do you think I’m ever going to have a girl like me for who I am?” 

Hermione’s heart broke. “Oh, Harry...” 

“And not because of _what_ I am?” 

“Harry, no–” 

“See, I thought Ginny did...” He was looking sideways at the wall now. “I thought she did... but... now I’ve done something wrong and she won’t even talk to me to tell me what it was... if she, you know, accepted me, I suppose, or cared, she’d tell me, right?” 

Hermione’s hand found its way to Harry’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Ginny does like you for who you are, Harry. Honestly, she does. I know it’s hard for you to trust that, with everything, but she does. She’s just...” Hermione sighed. “A moody, hard-headed Weasley.” 

Harry laughed humourlessly. “I wish I could believe that.” Then he studied her a moment. “I’m sure you don’t believe that Ron cares about you.” 

Hermione looked down at the floor. Her gaze felt comfortable there that day. “Wouldn’t think it from some of the horrid things he says to me.” 

Harry scowled. “Yeah.... but he does care.” Then he smiled. “Just moody and hard-headed.” 

“But he doesn’t care the way he should.” Hermione couldn’t believe she’d said it aloud. 

Harry sighed. “I think he does... but he won’t admit it.” 

“Well, that does neither me nor my tight knickers any good.” 

Harry laughed for real, then, and quickly stopped when he saw what Hermione supposed was a sour look on her face. “That was rude of him to say.” 

Hermione sniffed. “It was _quite_ rude. As if it matters to him or to me whether anyone’s been in my– well. He’d just better watch himself around me for a while, is all I can say. Besides, there are loads of girls who get to seventeen without having been kissed.” 

Harry’s incredulous expression caused Hermione’s face to burn. _Can’t keep your mouth shut tonight, can you?_

“You’ve never been kissed?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. “Ever? Not even once?” 

“No, Harry, thank you for making it sound so terrible.” 

“No, no, I just... well, I thought... I mean... Viktor Krum...” 

Hermione huffed in annoyance. “For Merlin’s sake. Nothing happened with Viktor at the bloody Yule Ball. The way you lot bring it up one would think it was yesterday and not nearly three years ago.” 

“Sorry.” Harry said, sounding shamed. Hermione felt her shoulders relax. 

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “He... he tried, but I got scared and turned my face away.” She surprised herself by giggling a bit. 

Harry laughed a little, too. “It’s not really that strange,” he said. “I mean... Cho was my first kiss, but really there haven’t been any since.” 

Hermione looked at him in surprise. She’d assumed he’d kissed other girls since he was fifteen. “Really?” 

Harry turned a little red. “Yeah.” 

“Well then. Aren’t we a couple of prudes.” 

Harry laughed. “We certainly are. Perhaps I should report to Ron and ask him what I can do about my tight britches.” 

Hermione laughed, too. “He seems to be the expert on the subject.” 

Harry’s face sobered, then. “You are pretty, Hermione. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” 

Hermione felt her neck prickle. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” 

His eyes were searching her face unabashedly. “I mean it,” he decided. “You’re a very pretty girl. And it’s okay if you haven’t been...” He suddenly stopped and seemed to focus intently for a moment on her mouth. “...kissed yet.” 

She felt her body seize up and some vaguely unfamiliar sensations were twinging underneath her skirt. _He’s going to kiss you. Harry’s going to kiss you. Pull away and run._

“I... I think we’re both a bit lonely, Harry,” she managed. His eyes left her lips and returned to the rest of her face. “And... I think we’re both a bit angry with certain people who we... who we want to take away that loneliness... and...” 

The look in his eyes as he met hers completely leveled her. “You’re right,” he said. Then in one quick movement he slipped his hand behind her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her firmly on the lips. 

Hermione felt so many things all at once - fascination, curiosity, horror, joy, despair, confusion... physical sensations of his tongue languidly tracing her bottom lip, of his soft skin on hers, his other hand pressing the small of her back and pulling her closer, the coarseness of his thick, black hair as she ran her own hands through it. None of it made sense. It didn’t make sense to be kissing Harry. Harry, who had been like her brother, who had been like a child she’d fussed over. She’d always wanted so badly for her first kiss to be with Ron; she’d dreamt of it, imagined it. But here she was, kissing Harry. She felt strange. But safe. 

She knew he wasn’t judging her. And that was all she needed then. That, and physical contact. Her reason had failed her and now all that was left was her ego. 

Her ego needed to be stroked. 

She didn’t protest as they turned and her back went up against the wall. She didn’t know how to kiss properly, she was sure of that. She was going on instinct alone, and her instinct seemed ready to devour him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he squeezed her to him, kissing her harder. 

Then, suddenly, he pulled away with a _smack_ , breaking contact and clearing some of the haze. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m sorry, Hermione, I–” 

“Don’t,” she said. She reached up and pulled off his glasses, giggling when he squinted slightly after they were gone. Then, before she lost her nerve, she kissed him again. She needed this, and she had a feeling he did, too. 

Harry pulled away again only to nip at her neck, up and down the right side. “I think I love Ginny,” he murmured breathlessly. “I know I love Ron,” Hermione replied, dropping his glasses to the floor and gripping his hair tightly. She was so wrapped up in him that she failed to notice she’d admitted that aloud. 

Those were the last words they spoke to one another for the next hour. Hermione’s body was nearly in shock from being touched so intimately by someone else - she’d hugged boys before (she’d hugged Harry before, even) but none had ever kissed her or touched her breasts or even held her hand, much less put one up her skirt and down her knickers. She took his hand and showed him what to do, what only she had done before. Reason was gone. 

She timidly touched him the same way, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the sounds he made when she did, and she grew bolder. She’d known something of what to expect from anatomy books, although she wasn’t sure how it was supposed to fit where it was supposed to fit. The girls had all been assured during their Sexual Education and Contraceptive Ministrations seminar that everything did fit, contrary to appearances. Amidst the giggling, Hermione had felt a tad bit frightened but had diligently taken notes anyway, as she always had, and had bravely taken her potion along with the rest of the 6th Year girls. 

She was even less sure now, and the pain nearly blinded her. She gripped his neck tightly and he mumbled apologies. Had she been in a normal state of mind, with her reason intact, she would’ve marveled at her situation, that she would actually be there with her back up against a stone wall, pinning the Invisibility Cloak, her legs around Harry’s waist, her knickers dangling from her ankle, Harry’s hands up her skirt and holding her to him by her backside. But she was not in normal state of mind; she could only think that if this weren’t happening, the loneliness would’ve swallowed her whole. 

The pain subsided and relaxed into a pleasing sort of comfortable rhythm, although her back was hurting and her arms were tired. She felt him shudder and he throbbed inside her as he grunted unglamourously, trying to stifle his cries. 

She slid down from him and they both slumped against the wall, tired and confused and awed all at once. No one moved or spoke; Hermione made no effort to pull up her knickers and Harry did not attempt to zip back up. Then, simultaneously and without needing to ask, they pulled each other into a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly when he’d caught his breath. 

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered back. “I...” she trailed off. Reason was flooding back to her. She released him and he took the cue, letting go of her and stepping back. They wordlessly put themselves back together; Hermione pulled her knickers back on, maneuvering in such a way that he wouldn’t see anything, and straightened her skirt and jumper before pulling her robe back on over her school kit. She heard the sound of Harry’s zipper and then he was straightening his tie and buttoning his robe while trying to hold onto the cloak at the same time. Then he picked up his glasses where they’d been discarded and set them onto his nose, blinking. 

They stopped and looked at one another, a tacit understanding growing between them. It had been once, and it would never be again. They’d needed each other, and they’d helped one another, but this wasn’t in the cards for either one of them. They weren’t what each other wanted. 

Harry looked shyly at the ground. Then he looked pained. “Ron will be furious.” 

Hermione was suddenly flooded with enormous guilt. _You shouldn’t be,_ her ego admonished. _No one has claim over you or over him. You’re both within your rights._

 _No,_ her reason interjected. _I know how Ginny feels about him._

“I’ll tell Ginny,” she said suddenly. “I’ll tell her.” 

Harry looked frightened. “Hermione–” 

“I’ll tell her,” Hermione said more firmly. “If you want to be with her, she’ll have to know at some point.” 

Harry nodded glumly. “I know. Okay.” He rubbed his nose. It made him look like a little boy. “I’ll tell Ron, then.” 

“No.” Hermione held up her hands. “Ron... Ron doesn’t need to know right now. Besides... he doesn’t want to be with me anyway.” 

“That’s not–” 

“That’s the end of it,” Hermione said gently but with finality. “He has no right to know. I’ll tell him when I think he’s ready to hear it, if I ever think he should.” 

Harry crossed his arms and then uncrossed him, reaching up to try to flatten his hair, a nervous habit. “All right,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it. I don’t like keeping things from him, but I will, this time.” 

Hermione exhaled slowly. “Thank you, Harry. For everything.” 

He reached out and squeezed her hand. His eyes were now overcast; haunted. But he gave her a half-smile. “Let’s get back before we really do get in trouble.” 

Hermione smiled back. “I think Filch is long gone by now.” 

“I’ve learned in my years here that he’s never gone.” Harry smiled fully now. “Let’s go.” 

Arm in arm, holding the cloak over themselves, the two friends made their way back to Gryffindor Tower with something sacred hanging between them.


	13. Stalemate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title by [Beth](http://lizabethy.livejournal.com).

"Tragic, really. Losing out to Harry Potter yet again."

Ron immediately came to a standstill, his blood simmering with anger in his veins. He hadn’t the slightest bit of patience for this on a good day, let alone a day on which he’d had to sit through double Potions with a glaringly silent–-but exacerbatingly Potions-proficient--Harry Potter, and a calmly distant Hermione Granger.

Malfoy continued drawling from the doorway of the Potions classroom. "Though I do suppose you’re used to getting things second-hand, aren’t you, Weasley?"

The simmer in his blood became a boil, and he made to turn but was stopped by a voice.

"Shut it, Malfoy."

It was Harry, standing a stone’s throw away, his face a mask of disgust. Irritation swelled through Ron.

"And here he is, coming to your rescue! How very sweet of him."

Ron’s teeth ground together. "Fuck off, the both of you."

Malfoy laughed. "Sounds like mutiny, Potter."

Harry’s gaze stayed intently on Ron. "Like he said, Malfoy, fuck off."

Ron could feel his hands beginning to clench into fists at his sides as he met Harry’s eyes unflinchingly. "I told you the same." Harry’s expression didn’t change. Ron had the sudden memory of his knuckles slamming into Harry’s jaw and fiery emotion spat through him. "But you do have a tendency to stick your arse into other people’s business."

"Hermione _is_ my business." Harry’s voice was low. "She’s been a great friend to me."

Ron’s throat closed. "So you shagged her? ‘Thanks for being there, let’s have a go?’"

Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes. "Contrary to what you may think, Ron, I didn’t just _shag_ her."

Blind jealousy surged through Ron as his mind jumped to the obvious conclusion. "What, you were in love with her and never thought to tell anyone?"

Harry snorted. "No, Ron, that was you."

Ron’s stomach turned over and his mind went desperately blank.

"Point for Potter." Malfoy’s smug voice rang out.

Harry took no notice. He simply continued looking at Ron, who felt as though the world had ground to a halt. Malfoy took their silence as a sign to keep speaking. "Now all we need is Granger here to tell us which of you she most enjoyed bumping pelvises with."

Ron felt a stab in his chest. Suddenly his mind was full of raw images of Harry and Hermione and he felt as if he would be ill. His hand itched madly for his wand, but he didn’t quite know which one he wanted to aim it at.

"My money’s on Potter," Malfoy continued. "He is The Boy Who Lived, after all. Maybe a little fame rubbed off on Granger." His tongue seemed to leisure on the word ‘rubbed.’

"Jesus Christ, Malfoy," Harry spat, apparently having reached the end of his tether, "don’t you ever shut up? There’s nothing for you to gain from this. It doesn’t even involve you."

"Oh, I don’t know about that," Malfoy countered. "Who’s to say I haven’t had a go at her too? She does seem to get passed around this school like—"

Unable to think, Ron whipped out his wand. Red light shot through the air and Malfoy didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Ron watched, his lip curled and his head pounding, as the blond boy crumpled to the floor.

Surprised by the power of the spell, Ron’s eyes searched out Harry again, and found him lowering his wand arm, his face blank but his cheeks just the slightest bit flushed. Ron blinked, then snapped his gaze back to Malfoy’s prone form, discomfort stretching inside him.

They both stood rigid as statues. Ron’s jaw was tight. "Thanks." His kept his voice carefully clear of undertones.

"Anytime," Harry replied. He nearly sounded sad, and Ron’s stomach rolled over. He turned to look--

"What the hell happened here?" Ginny’s voice startled them both, and they turned to see her kneeling down, poking at Malfoy with her wand. Ron's eyes skidded over her, however, to stop at where Hermione stood a bit away, arms crossed and her bookbag slumping heavily over her right shoulder no matter how perfect her posture was. She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away.

Ginny turned and arched an eyebrow at the boys, catching Ron's attention. "I’m assuming I shouldn’t ask?"

"Do that," muttered Ron. "The git deserved it."

"I don’t doubt it," Ginny said, turning back to Malfoy’s prone form. "But I can’t help being curious."

She glanced up at Hermione. "May I, Head Girl?" Hermione hesitated, glanced around at the empty corridor, then nodded curtly. Ginny said a few spells and a groan leaked out of Malfoy as he began to come around. " _Obliviate_ ," she said calmly, and his eyes slowly focused on her freckled face.

He sat up immediately, his nostrils flaring. "How dare you touch me, Weasley!"

Ron felt his wand hand twitch again. But Ginny very calmly paused, stood, and regarded Malfoy with narrowed eyes. "I just did you a favour, Malfoy. Sod off."

"As if you could do me any favours." He rose to his feet and pulled out his wand, aiming it shakily in their general direction. "I should curse you and the rest of your worthless, dirty—"

"What was that?" McGonagall’s voice reached their ears before any more errant spells could be cast. Malfoy’s face pinched into a sour look and he shoved his wand into his robes.

"Would you care to finish that statement, Mr. Malfoy?" the teacher continued coolly. Malfoy shook his head, his lips drawn together petulantly. "Very well then. A point from Slytherin for threatening another student, and another for intent to use magic in the halls. You’re dismissed."

Ron snorted. Malfoy shot him a glare and turned on his heel, his nose in the air.

Then McGonagall's gaze swept over the group of them, and Ron's good humour died quickly. "As for the four of you, I expect you in my office this evening at eight o’clock sharp."

Ron exchanged a confused look with Harry and Hermione out of habit, then felt his ears burn as he quickly turned back to the aging witch in front of him. "Professor?"

"I am not blind, Mr. Weasley, contrary to what some students might think." She looked from one to the next, her expression unreadable. "A discussion is in order." Then her steely gaze focused on Ginny. "You know what needs to be done, Miss Weasley. And soon." She turned back to the corridor and walked away.

Ron stared at the space she had just been occupying—then wrenched his gaze to Ginny's now-ashen face. "And what the bloody hell did that mean?"

Ginny looked lost for a brief moment, then tipped her chin up and met his eye. "You heard her same as I did." She glanced at Harry, who also looked puzzled, but relaxed when she twined her hand in his. "Eight o'clock. We'll see you then." She turned and left, tightening her hold on Harry's hand as he fell in beside her. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the dead corridor.

Ron let himself look over at Hermione. Her face was pinched and pale. He wanted to say something, anything, but he hadn't a clue as to what. Her look defeated him before he could begin.

She pressed her lips together and gave him a furtive glance. "Eight o'clock, then?" she echoed. "I'll be in the library until then." Then her heels clicked on the cold floor as well.


	14. High Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Buckbeaky!Heather, who made a joke and saved this story. One thang stolen from _Snatch._

Ron, to his chagrin but true to form, was the last to arrive at McGonagall's chambers. His face flaming, he slumped down in the only available chair, his limbs feeling too large for the rest of him.

"Tea, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall held out a steaming cup, which Ron eyed. But the other three already had accepted, so he took one as well. "There are biscuits, too, if you'd like."

Ron shook his head, the biscuits and tea jarring the idea he'd had that this meeting was going to be akin to a trip thru Filch's dungeons. He took a sip gingerly and found it tasted fine, so he settled reluctantly back in his chair.

"Now, I expect you all know why you're here." Professor McGonagall surveyed the room as she spoke, catching each of their eyes in turn, Ron last.

His stomach tumbled and he couldn't hold her gaze, instead shifting to stare at the floor next to his left foot. "What, besides the obvious?" he grumbled.

McGonagall looked at him sharply. "And what is the obvious, Mr. Weasley?"

His ears heated again. As much as the words were welling up inside him, they got caught before they hit the air. He slumped further down into his chair, stymied, and could feel the teacher's eyes on him.

"You're upset that Ms. Granger has had relations with Mr. Potter, is that it?"

He nearly choked. And he could have sworn he heard a cough from elsewhere in the room as well. "Well, I—wouldn't exactly—I think it's more like—"

"Oh stop it, Ron." His head jerked over to his sister, whose eyebrow was raised at him with a hint of affection. "You're a very bad liar." Harry snorted beside her, and a twinkle even found its way back into Hermione's eyes for a moment.

Ron glared at them, suddenly seething. "Glad you lot are so sodding good at it," he spat.

Ginny started to retort, but McGonagall spoke before she had a chance. "That's enough!" She raised her hand against their arguing. "Do not take that tone again, any of you," she said warningly. "This must be sorted out. And quickly."

"Why quickly?" Hermione cautiously voiced the question Ron would have asked if he'd been able to unstick himself from his mire of anger.

McGonagall's lips pressed together. Her eyes moved from Hermione to Ginny, and Ron watched his sister grow pale. "I believe I will leave that up to Miss Weasley's discretion."

And suddenly everyone was staring at Ginny, whose eyes were wide. "Later," she said a bit desperately. "I need… more time to—to sort it out." Her voice was small, and despite his anger and confusion Ron felt the urge to reach out and tug at her sleeve, nudge the frown from his little sister's brow.

"As nice as that would be, I must tell you that you don't have very long. We have new information, and I am very certain that now more than ever, time is in short supply."

Ginny nodded mutely, her mouth tightening. McGonagall's eyes sparkled with pity for a moment, then she glanced at the time and turned back to the others. "I have a meeting to go to now, which should last a few hours. From there, I am retiring to my chambers. I hope to see you all in the morning." She gathered her things and came out from behind her desk, moving towards the door.

Ron stared at her, as no doubt did the others, his mouth open. "But—what? You're just—"

"Leaving you here? Yes, I am, Mr. Weasley." The teacher paused upon reaching the large wooden door to look back at them, an amused tilt to her chin. "Miss Granger," she began, looking at Hermione, "do you recall the section of _Hogwarts, a History_ on the Room of Malenchantment?"

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed slightly. "It was a room used for dispute mediation," she rattled off easily, "where no harmful magic was allowed and exit was not possible until the mediation was complete. But…" She trailed off, then looked up at McGonagall in disbelief. "It was said to have been dismantled some time ago."

The teacher nodded. "So it was assumed when I took it for an office. But the specialties of the room have been very useful in my time." She seemed to almost smile as she touched the rough old surface of the door, then her eyes swept over the four of them one last time. "So you see, you are here for a purpose, and I expect you will fulfill it. The room will know when the conflict is resolved. Only then will you be allowed back to your dormitory. Goodnight."

And with a curt nod, she left. The door creaked, then clicked behind her. A shimmer of magic seeped through the room, and left them without any doubt that they were trapped.

 _Trapped. Like bloody beasts._

Ron buried his head in his hands and stifled a groan. He couldn't think of anything worse. He'd rather be subjected to Filch's miserable punishments than this. He wracked his brain for possible outs, lies, anything to break the spell or get it over with quickly...

"She put something in the tea, too," Hermione said quietly.

Ron whipped around to where she was sat. "She did? Something like what?"

"Like Veritaserum, I'd imagine," she replied mildly. Ron was sure he hadn't heard her right, and opened his mouth to protest. "Which, before you ask, is not illegal when left solely to the discretion of the Headmaster and the Potions master, and used in a matter of great urgency."

Ron thumped back into his chair, disgusted.

Hermione looked at Ginny, curiosity piquing her brow. "Is this a matter of great urgency?"

"I didn't think it was _this_ great, but yes." Ginny played with the fraying hem of her skirt.

Hermione tried to coax it out of her. "Why? Can you tell us?"

"I can." But she obviously didn't want to, and her stubborn streak was a mile wide.

Frustration surged through Ron anew. He downed the last of his tea recklessly, feeling it somehow spited everyone else in the room. "Just spit it out so we can leave," he muttered, getting up out of his seat and walking towards the window.

Ginny stayed silent for a moment as he halfheartedly shook the clasp on the windowpanes. Then: "As you wish," she said laconically. "I know I've got to eventually, it's just—" Her tone turned wry. "Don't—I dunno, throw anything at me." Ron turned and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione interjected, "We'd never—"

"I wouldn't count on it, Hermione." Ginny looked meaningfully from Ron to Harry, and Hermione fell silent. "I for one am certainly glad no harmful spells are allowed."

Ron felt the barb and couldn't hold back a snarl. "Don't start, or I'll test that theory."

Ginny merely pursed her lips at him, then glanced at the others' mugs. "And let's all finish our tea first. I expect we'll all need a bit of liquid courage, and I certainly don't want Ron to be the only one running off at the mouth."

"Goody gumdrops," Ron muttered as Harry and Hermione did as Ginny requested. "Now we'll all be nattering messes."

"Just shut up, Ron," Ginny said with unchecked annoyance. "They're coming for him, and all you can do is make insipid remarks about something that happened ages ago!"

Ron quickly turned from the window, his heart thumping. "Coming for who?" Although he was sick with what he knew was the answer.

Ginny choked back a laugh. "Who else?"

Harry was pale now, too, but said nothing.

"But—" Ron found himself stepping towards Harry's chair. "Why? That doesn't make any sense! We're not ready, the war's not here yet, it's too soon—"

"According to whom, Ron?" Ginny looked up at him angrily. "There's a prophecy about Harry. It says—"

"--the one with the power to vanquish, born as the seventh month dies, etcetera--we know this, Gin--"

But Ginny talked over him. "—it says the greatest weapon he has is the Directions Four."

Harry's brow crinkled in surprise. "What?

Ron could practically see Hermione scanning a dozen books in her head. "But that could mean—"

"I don't know what it means," Ginny interrupted firmly. Hermione stopped mid-word, surprised. "And I'm the one that _had_ the bloody vision."

Harry's expression changed instantly, mirroring the stunned confusion flushing Ron's face. "Excuse me?"

Ginny looked at them hesitantly. "I…" She shook her head as if to clear it, then reached for Harry. "Do you remember what it was you said that night—" She glanced at Hermione and swallowed. "--what got me so wound up?"

Harry let out a frustrated noise. "By Merlin, I have no idea! I never did. We were sitting in the common room, talking about classes and professors, and… and you stormed off like I'd called your mum a slag."

Ron snorted. "No," Ginny cut in, shaking her head impatiently, "it was about Trelawney."

Harry looked as though he'd been socked in the gut. When he spoke again, his voice was diminished. "It wasn't just about Trelawney, it was about all Seers," he said quietly, looking at Ginny as if he'd never quite seen her before. "About how they complained about nothing, and it was all wanky rubbish..."

Ginny nodded, her face drawn and her eyes bright. Memories flashed before Ron's eyes as he stared at her, of little Ginny and her funny ways, and he felt all his anger drain away. "Bloody fucking hell."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione breathed.

Ginny fought tears angrily. "I've seen your death, Harry. I've seen all of ours." She held Harry's hand so tightly her knuckles whitened. "The war is coming, and if McGonagall is right, it's coming soon. For us."


	15. Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bits in this chapter were nicked from _Chasing Amy, Mary Poppins_ , the Grope, _Anastasia, High Fidelity_ , doraemon, ‘War of the Coprohaghes,’ and ‘Loneliness.’ Thanks to doraemon and leftsockarchive for the beta jobs and no-nonsense ass-kickings.

As if someone was listening, a loud boom echoed through the castle and roused a shout from the portraits down the hall. The four students were instantly on their feet.

"What was that?"

Ron strained his ears, tense. A few seconds of silence ticked slowly by. Then—a far away scream.

Harry sprang over to the door and pushed at the latch. "It won't budge."

Ron quickly joined him and they grunted against the heavy wood. "Bloody hell," Ron groaned as he pushed as hard as he could, his heart pounding somewhere in his throat as Harry's face grew more and more panicked.

"Oh, move _over!_ " Hermione commanded shrilly, pointing her wand at the door and firing off half a dozen spells. When nothing worked, she paled, her eyes instantly searching out Ron's. His insides clenched and he nearly moved to her side—then stopped himself at the last second—

And suddenly they all found themselves at a wretched standstill, looking at one another anxiously. Ron felt like his gut was somehow stretched thin. They heard no more from the rest of the castle and the quiet rang painfully in his ears.

"Looks like McGonagall wasn't taking the piss," Ginny finally said, pale as a ghost. She looked as if she was about to throw up or pass out—or hit something with a very, very nasty hex.

Panic rose up in Ron's throat. "You've got to be joking." He fought the urge to shout. "This castle might very well be under attack and we are sodding _stuck here?_ "

"Not necessarily for very long," Hermione cut in, looking dartingly from him to Harry and back again.

Ron snorted. "Right. Let's kiss and make up then go save the world, is that it?" He too shot a look at Harry, his face darkening. "I think McGonagall might have overshot the mark with this one a bit."

Ginny let out an exasperated growl. "Only because she doesn't realize what prats she’s dealing with!" She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. “Fine. If it is up to me, so be it.”

Then she put her hand on her hip and turned to meet Ron’s agitated gaze. “The most glaring indiscretion we have to work with here would be you nearly breaking your best mate’s jaw, so let's start with that." She nodded towards Harry. “Apologize to him.”

Ron laughed bitterly, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring just past her head. “Not a chance.” His stomach felt all greasy. "There’s got to be another way.”

Harry quickly agreed. "Oh, come on, Gin…" he tried. "I don't think it will work, honestly—"

"It's got to," she said sharply. "Don't you understand? People could be—will be— _dying_. We—or you, or them, or Merlin knows who exactly—have been charged with fixing that, but instead—What? We're stuck in a room because of ridiculous teenage melodrama?"

“Oi!” Ron interjected incredulously. “I’m pissed off at my best friend for shagging my _girlfriend_ and you call me ridiculous?”

“Ron!” Ginny didn’t mind yelling. “Stop thinking—or _not_ thinking, as the case may be—like a bullheaded Gryffindor!” She gritted her teeth and spoke the next words loudly and clearly, as if speaking to a Confunded person. “She _wasn’t your girlfriend_. You’ve got to get that through your bloody thick skull, for one, and for two, admit that cuffing Harry—no matter how cathartic—was rude and regrettable!”

Ron snarled, crossing his arms in front of him. "No fucking way. Not until he apologizes for—for—what he did. He should’ve known—You just don’t _do_ that to another bloke."

“He _did_ know.” Hermione’s quiet voice cut across the Weasley brawl, her eyes moving from Harry to Ron. “But I--” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Circumstances were somewhat—tempered by unusual behavior.” She rounded on him, pale and determined.

“Oh Merlin, here we go...” Harry muttered.

“ _Your_ unusual behavior, Ron.”

Ron’s stomach lurched as their gazes met, hers wounded but proud—and blazing with anger. His brain scrambled to catch up. He couldn’t think of what he’d’ve said that could’ve possibly sent those two waltzing into bed together. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Ginny already explained why Harry was—well—so inclined, but...Don’t you remember?” She shook her head, and guilt began creeping up on him. “That was the day you declared—to use your charming expression—that no one would ever loosen my knickers.” Disgust marred her face, warring with tired humiliation.

Ron blanched. “Morgana’s tits.”

Truthfully, he only had a vague memory of that day. He recalled being so worn by school and Quidditch and the looming war, so tired of her harping and so bloody sick of never being able to reach for her like he wanted...

She interrupted his thoughts tersely. “Why’d you say it?”

He had no answer, really, and when he focused on her again, the bewildered hurt in her eyes shut out any possible excuse he might have made. His mouth opened, then closed again. The Veritaserum didn’t help one become more eloquent, it seemed, just more honestly at a loss for words. So he shrugged, dejected, and said the first thing he thought of that made sense. “Why’d you sleep with Harry?”

She made a noise. The air between them shimmered, finally, for the first time in far too long.

She raised a hand helplessly. “I...” She was clearly fighting the Veritaserum as well, her mouth working and her cheeks stained pink.

“You never apologized, Ron,” she finally spat out desperately. Her eyes got suspiciously bright, but her chin jutted out determinedly. “You let me think I was just—just a prude in prefect’s clothing. A girl with nothing under her skirt.” Her voice shook on the last bit, and she cleared her throat quickly. Ron’s heart skidded to a stop. “Harry was willing to prove to me otherwise. And very sweetly, I might add.”

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable at this. Ginny looked like she knew better.

Ron wanted to throw up. “Hermione...” But the words got stuck. All he managed was to stare at her and try not to drown in the roaring in his head.

She just looked at him, shaking her head, phrases forming on her lips effortlessly, while his train had derailed long ago. “And then when you finally did—loosen my knickers, I was just like one of those girls you pulled, one of the many birds lucky enough to be blessed by the presence of the great Ron Weasley.”

At this ego-bruising, the words finally welled up, thankfully instead of the sick. “I didn’t know you thought that, for fuck’s sake, and I—”

But she was on a roll. “I _love_ you, as ridiculous as that seems at this point, and you never once—“

“ _Yes I **did**!_ ” Ron shouted.

The absolute elation flooding through his body swallowed him and his frustration, and he reached for her. Her expression was so lost, confused, and stubborn, but when he caught her chin in his hand, her lower lip quivered. His skin sang from touching her again. He tried not to let it distract him. “I did. I do. I—“

But again, words failed him. His heart thudded a mile a minute in his chest and he swallowed the urge to take it all back, or just kiss her and try to tell her everything that way. His lips twitched with the impulse, but words came out instead. “I tried to show you every chance I got. I tried to tell you, and you—“ Ron nearly winced at the memory, feeling cold and hot at the same time.

But the look on her face—the heat won out all over his body. Her eyes were starting to shine.

He took her by the shoulders, desperately holding her in his gaze. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said that day. But you never said a damn thing about love, not once, and when I tried you nearly kicked me out of bed. Of course I love you. How could I not? I have it very much in mind to love you for the next eighty years. You just wouldn’t hear it.”

He watched her face anxiously. Slowly, the shine spilled over into tears and he could see the beginnings of a smile. He felt joy daring to creep into his face as well.

“Finally!” Ginny threw up her hands. “Now let’s give this another try.” Looking proud of herself, she reached for the doorknob.

With a shrieking creak, the door burst open, revealing a pale, gaunt figure on the other side. Ron had never seen anything like him, except, perhaps, in children’s books.

“Students,” he said lowly from the doorway, in a rich, smooth voice. “Lovely.” And then he smiled, showing them all his lovely, straight teeth—and two perfectly white fangs.


	16. Communion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great help obtained from the HP Lexicon and [this](http://oii.org/html/the_four_directions_explained.html) website. Thanks to anybody still reading this, and to LeftSockArchive for her unbending support in a rough time. Major quote is from [The Seven Arrows](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0345329015/sr=8-1/qid=1153918178/ref=sr_1_1/104-1608248-8247925?ie=UTF8) by Hyemeyohsts Storm. Title is from a god-awful choral piece by Gary Whitley. Don’t forget, this story was started before _Order of the Phoenix_ came out. Great thanks to elucreh and mollierms for the betalookovers. Blame SurlyHeather if this comes across like ~~OMGVAMPIRESSSSSSSSSSS!!!~~ a Buffy episode. :P

They stared at each other, the four students and the man in black. He was almost—Ron shuddered to think--pretty, with his white skin and his black eyes glittering. Stunned, Ron found himself disturbingly unable to look away.

The others in the room seemed a bit stuck as well. “You’re a—a—” Hermione stuttered. Even after her years in the magical world, she struggled with the word.

“A vampire, yes.” A sneer played on his thin lips, turning Ron’s stomach chilly.

“You’re not welcome here,” Ginny murmured warningly, a strangely determined look on her face. “We mean no trouble, but this is our school.”

The man eyed her for a moment, and then casually lifted his wand. “Was your school.”

Ron’s heart froze and he tried to yell, but a strong spell had already flicked Ginny back ten feet from the door, her eyes wide, to crumple against McGonagall’s desk.

Lights flashed in Ron’s head and he sprang towards the man, feeling Harry do the same beside him. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything but push, charge, destroy the fucker—

But before either of them could reach the vampire and attack him with their bare hands, as was most likely their only plan regardless of its foolishness, Hermione’s voice reverberated in the room and stopped them cold.

 _“Aresurrexit!”_

The spell whizzed towards the man on a dark blue stream of light. He smirked, obviously not believing that a student would have enough skill to successfully perform it...

Then it hit him, and surprise bloomed on his face. They watched, horrified, as his skin turned from pasty white to rosy pink to a blistered red before melting, like bizarre candle wax, into a charred pile of former flesh.

Ron, while pleasantly surprised by what Hermione’d just accomplished, thought it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen, and thought for sure he was going to be sick.

Then he heard Harry’s anguished voice— “Ginny!” —and his insides clenched for what felt like the millionth time that evening. He immediately joined Harry at his sister’s side, Hermione close behind. “Ginny...” Harry’s hands were running over her, trying to find signs of life, of magic. “Oh god, please...” His face was so crumpled...Ron had never seen him like this. It was as if nothing else meant anything to him, as if—

“She’ll be fine,” Hermione interrupted briskly, the only one in a good enough mental place to accurately assess Ginny’s shallow breathing and pale skin. “Healing’s not a forte of mine, but I’m sure I’ve read about that spell. It’s repairable.” Her brow wrinkled slightly as she leaned closer to Ginny’s prone form. “If I can manage to do it correctly.”

Harry shook his head and looked up at her. “Let me.” His eyes were clearer, though shot through with lines of red. Hermione searched his face for a moment, wavering, then nodded curtly.

Still kneeling, Harry calculatingly placed his left hand a half inch above Ginny’s heart. Then he flicked his wand in his other hand. Ron could swear his heart stopped as he waited desperately for what felt an endless moment. It was as if time had stopped of its own accord, the very room seeming to hold its breath.

Finally, after seconds that felt like hours, Ginny coughed violently, rolling onto her side and curling up tightly against Harry, who slumped down to clutch her in his arms, unabashed joy on his face. Relief blazed through Ron, who felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his heart.

It was then he was conscious of Hermione’s iron-grip on his hand. He turned to her, but she was still watching Ginny worriedly. His heart clenched yet again, only this time with something like hope. He clutched her fingers to his. “She’ll be alright,” he tried to reassure her. “...won’t she?”

Hermione started to shake her head, her eyes never leaving Ginny’s still unmoving position. “We won’t know until she—”

“She’s fine,” interrupted Harry’s muffled voice.

“But how can you t—”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Ginny reiterated weakly but valiantly, lifting her head from Harry’s embrace and shooting them a small smile.

“Oh thank goodness!” Hermione’s grip on his hand loosened, warmed. “I was so scared! I thought maybe Harry was too involved, maybe I should’ve gone ahead and—”

“I’m fine,” Ginny repeated, more firmly this time, looking battered but far from broken. She sat up fully, despite the chagrined look in Harry’s face. “I was just testing Harry on the things he’s learned in his private lessons,” she teased, looking up at her rescuer with a diluted but still lovely grin.

Relief finally seeped onto Harry’s face. “Yes, because I’ve always wanted to use my most advanced healing spell on a beautiful girl,” he murmured with a small laugh.

Ron, feeling half-mad with adrenaline, felt a chuckle escape him as well. Ginny looked up at him and grinned weakly, then her gaze moved past him to the place her attacker had stood. Her eyes widened, and she looked sharply from one face to another. “Is he--?”

Ron quickly pointed her gaze to Hermione, who squared her shoulders, disgust resurfacing on her face as she turned to contemplate the spot briefly. “He certainly won’t be bothering us anymore.” She calmly performed a cleaning spell, effectively banishing the offending pile of leftover vampire.

Then Ron noticed that her hand was shaking, and he felt that clench in his chest again.

He fetched around for something to say. “So what...happened?” he finally ventured, sounding a bit naff even to his own ears.

“That’s the only way spell to destroy vampires,” Hermione answered, her voice betraying only a wee bit of strain. “Normal harmful spells don’t work very well, obviously, seeing as they’re already dead. So that’s one that causes them to come back to life—just in time to enjoy a very nasty death.”

Ron started to ask “How did you—” but then shook his head, heeding a ridiculous urge to grin. “Never mind.” He sobered. “And I more meant, why are they doing this now? Why a vampire?” Hermione clearly had no idea, so he looked towards Ginny. “Did Snape...?” The remaining words abandoned him, trailing off into a weak question mark.

Ginny had regained enough strength to look annoyed. “I don’t bloody know, Ron, as I’ve said. All I’ve had is that one vision, and we can all see how much _that’s_ helped.” She stood up, Harry’s arm steadying her. “All I know is that we need to get out of here. McGonagall was obviously wrong about the ‘no harmful spells allowed’ bit.” She dusted herself off, giving Harry one last squeeze, and cautiously made to leave.

But the door, which had swung shut behind the intruder, wouldn’t budge.

Ron nearly squeaked. “Oh, fuck me running.”

“Ron, don’t swear,” Hermione chastised absently. Then she looked at Harry anxiously. “Something else has got to be done.”

Harry shrugged, not looking at Ron. “It’s not up to me.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Ginny cut in derisively, stepping away from the door, pale and angry. “Just say it.” They battled wills silently for a moment, then a muscle in Harry’s jaw twitched and he looked towards Ron.

Ron’s heart, barely drained of adrenaline, twinged again as Harry met his eyes. The hard look he saw there surprised him less than the sadness underneath...a sadness that allowed Ron’s own anger to draw back, revealing a mirroring truth he hadn’t known was there.

He missed his best friend, he realized suddenly. And his best friend missed him.

“Fine,” Harry said brusquely. Ron shook off the sentimentality as quickly as it had come, determined to hold his ground. “Ron, I...” He stopped. His weight shifted. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Ron’s stomach did a flop-over in his gut. His mind blanked. It was not supposed to happen this way, they were supposed to argue, to hit each other, then sulk it off, like his brothers and he always did--

“What?” he managed to bit out roughly.

Harry exhaled in a burst and turned sharply to Ginny. “I told you this wouldn’t--I’m not going to say it again. He’s too damn--”

But Ginny held up her hand. “Ron,” she said tersely, sounding the image of her mother, “you heard what he said. Now admit you shouldn’t’ve hit him and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Words started surging from Ron’s mouth, a lot of words he didn’t quite own and couldn’t at all edit, but they died when the door to the room fell open again with a resigned groan.

“Oh no,” escaped Hermione’s lips on a rush of air at the sight of what could only be another vampire.

“Oh yes, silly girl,” a snide, wizened voice said. A short, spare old man in darkly purple robes raised his wand. _“Crucio!”_

 _“No!_

Hermione dropped to the ground, writhing, as the shout tore from Ron’s lips. Her sobbing moan hit his ears and rent his gut. “Mother _fuck_ er!” Anger clouded his vision as he scrambled for his wand.

But the dark man was destroyed by the fierce blue killing spell before he even got the chance. Slack-jawed, Ron turned to see Harry with his wand arm outstretched, a coldly satisfied look on his face. “Ron--” His eyes widened. _“Protego!”_

Ron felt something sort of slide into him as the spell spun him around—

\--to come face to face with another annoyed-looking vampire and the tip of a wand.

His whole body tingled with stunning fear and he couldn’t make himself move, couldn’t make his arm do what he knew, just _knew_ it needed to do. He could hear Harry shouting a spell but couldn’t seem to help him, or do _any_ thing--

And then he heard Hermione shout along with Harry, and the effect seemed instantaneous--the old man dribbled out of existence with merely a smirk.

But Ron didn’t notice—he’d already knelt at Hermione’s side, his palm on her drawn face. She was sat up on her hands, her wand fallen to her side after hastily casting the curse. “Hermione...”

She tried to smile, and nearly managed. “It’s alright, Ron.”

“No it’s not! I could’ve—I should’ve—” The words choked him. She shifted, reached up, smoothed his forehead softly.

“It’s alright,” she said again. Her eyes lowered to his lips, and he took the hint and kissed her gently, not sure how much the spell had weakened her. It was soft and chaste, but her face was brighter afterwards, and happiness snuck into his heart.

For a moment. Until she sat up, looked from Ron to Ginny and said sternly, “We need to teach you both that spell. Harry knows it from lessons, but it’s not easy, and I don’t for one minute think that this is the last we’ll see of them.” She started to stand and Ron took her by the wrist and waist, making her take it slowly.

“You’re right,” Harry asserted quietly, taking Hermione’s other arm until she was upright. “There’ll be at least ten more. Don’t—“ He held up his hand to questions before Hermione even formed them. “—ask. Just trust me.”

Hermione nodded. “Fine. Ginny? Do you think you can—“

“I’ve got it.” Ginny’s chin tipped up stubbornly, her arms crossed over her chest.

Hermione blinked, but Ron found himself agreeing. “I think it’s not something I’ll ever be able to forget, actually.” The image of melting flesh was burned onto his retinas, as surely as the spell word was seared into his consciousness by hearing it used with such desperation in voices he’d known so well. The idea of using it scared the piss out of him still, yeah, but he somehow knew he’d manage. He’d have to. Hermione’s hand felt so warm.

“But it’s very advanced magic, and we’re not finished with our courses, and Ginny’s younger, and—“

He tightened his grip on her reassuringly, a smile ghosting his mouth at her bother. “We’re fine.”

Ginny suddenly dropped her arms and raised her wand. “I can hear them.” Harry was suddenly at the ready as well, and Ron’s heart began to thump sickly in his chest. He swallowed hard.

Then he could hear them, too, approaching the office. But it sounded like someone was blocking the way, and putting up a fight. He heard muffled thumps and shouts and the slithering zing of spells.

Then something slammed against the heavy wood of the door with a sickening thud.

Fear snapped through his spine and his wand was up before he could think about it.

The door exploded inward again, only this time what stumbled in wasn’t a vampire—it was Professor McGonagall.

Her cheeks were abnormally flushed as she quickly assessed the four of them. They must’ve looked like quite the pathetic army, Ron realized, scared to bits and utterly ill-prepared. “Oh thank Merlin. We don’t have long. You all know the proper spell, I trust?”

“We do now,” Harry said succinctly. “And you’d best get away from the--”

A vampire with shocking ruby-coloured hair appeared under the doorframe, half dozen more behind her. They pushed in, a seething mass.

With a blink and a curse, he found himself in the middle of a battle.

Adrenaline shot through him as spells sang past his ears. A vampire rushed at him, small and chubby, and his wand snapped up again. Fear blanketed his mind, but to his surprise, his hand was steady. _“Aresurrexit!”_

He knew instinctively the curse had flown true, so he turned away with a grimace when his opponent’s skin started to crackle and ooze.

His stomach churned. He clutched his wand until his knuckles whitened, willing himself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

 _Just like chess, you great ninny. Just pretend it’s chess and do what you always do._

He was spared another attack right away, and he forced himself to assess their situation. Ginny was in one corner tousling with a hairy bloke, while Snape— _When the hell did he get here?_ Ron had no idea--sneered at the rapidly weakening vampire in front of him. McGonagall had been taken down, but not long before her opponent was taken out by Hermione, who immediately turned to fight off a vampire with very large and crooked teeth.

He started forward to help her, then noticed Harry in the midst of a swarm of combatants—and more of them streaming towards him through the open door. Fear spiked through him at an even higher voltage, but he sucked it up and charged towards the fray surrounding his best mate.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ he shouted with all his might. He couldn’t hope to obliterate all of them at once, so he sent the disarming spell as hard as he could, hoping it would hit more than one.

Miraculously, it worked. Harry looked up in surprise as a vampire nearly tumbled into him after getting divested of her wand. Gratefulness spread across his features, only to be interrupted by a fang-bearing woman in lavender robes. He barked out a curse, and then shoved her disintegrating body away.

The other mortals in the room had recovered and were closing in on the mob around Harry. Ron took an opportunity and budged in to stand by his mate, dodging spells and firing off whatever curses he could think of at whatever dark creature stood in front of him.

After barely dodging an angry red beam of magic, Ron’s stomach twisted when found himself back to back with Harry, so close he could feel the fear and anger running off his best friend.

 _Say something._

 _You could all die in five minutes. Fucking say something._

“I—“ He started, but his voice was sucked up by the surrounding din. “I _am_ sorry for hitting you,” he heard himself shout. It wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but he couldn’t take it back and, much to his chagrin, he couldn’t say it wasn’t true. _Damn it all._

“I know, mate.” Harry interrupted himself by aiming a curse to his right. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that night.”

Ron nodded, not fully satisfied but realizing, with a bit of a shock, that it was going to have to be that way. “Alright.”

And then they were forced, thankfully, to get back to the matter at hand.

In a random motion that felt funnily familiar, both Ron and Harry turned to the vampire in front of them and uttered the destroying spell at the same time. The light shot hard and fast across the space--not two streams, but one--and they nearly jumped backwards in surprise. The vampire would have too, if he hadn’t been blown nearly to the next room by the force of it.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

Harry stared at where the vampire had been. “I might have an idea,” he said softly. Then-- “Behind you!” Ron spun around, watching as Harry’s spell flew past his nose and into a small vampire with her wand-arm raised.

She flinched, hurt but not incinerated, her black eyes immediately focusing again on her prey, and Ron knew they had their work cut out for them. He never took his eyes off her as he spoke to his best mate. “Ready to try that again?”

He saw Harry nod in his periphery, then steadied himself. _One, two_ —The stupid hag was raising her arm again—

 _“Aressurexit!”_

Ginny’s shrill cry arced across the air with theirs, and Ron turned just in time to see Harry reach for her with his free hand, his concentration never wavering. Their fingers touched, just for a moment, but it was enough. Their assailant dripped to the ground with barely time for a grimace.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted, wasting no time. “Get over here!”

Hermione, her hair a bit more frazzled than normal, concentration wrinkling her forehead, shot a questioning glance at the three of them before deflecting a spell from an ugly matronly vampire. “You alright?” she shouted back.

“Yes! Just—“ Harry shook his head once, tersely. “Let’s show her,” he said to Ron and Ginny.

Ron nodded, past the point of thinking, and steadied himself once more. They raised their wands and said the spell together.

The light from it nearly made Ron squint, and the woman in front of Hermione was obliterated instantly.

Hermione’s eyes grew wider than Ron had ever seen them as she stared at the place the dark creature had stood. Then she looked at Harry, her mouth slightly open. “What in the name of God was _that?”_

“That’s a good question, Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice slid into the conversation, startling everyone.

Ron tore his eyes away from Hermione and looked around the room. He was astounded to see only mortals. Only two professors and the four of them.

No vampires.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley, we’re alone for now.” McGonagall’s voice had a metallic edge to it, and Ron turned to find her sat heavily at the slightly singed chair behind her half-splintered desk. “Severus, if you please.” She gestured vaguely and Snape pursed his lips.

“Fine. I’ll ready my house and see you in a few hours.” And, after tipping his chin slightly to the four students, he left.

As they stood there, tightly coiled and suddenly useless, the floodgates opened in Ron’s mind, and the events of the last minutes— _hours, it feels like hours_ —dragged him down, so much that his body bent over itself as he tried to control a sudden bout of nausea. He couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t stop the pictures from flashing in his mind, flickering lights and sounds...of McGonagall falling, of piles of destroyed flesh, of spells and shouts and knowing that at any second, they could be done, gone, dead in a moment of pain and awful certainty... The sickness of it and the fear and the anger tossed around in his belly until he knew he was going to vomit. He wanted to--he could feel it, just right there--

“Breathe, Ron.”

Ron’s gaze snapped blankly towards the source of the voice before he realized the motion made white lights explode behind his eyes. He squinched his face and clutched his midsection, trying not to submit to the violent spasms of his stomach.

“Breathe.” He felt a soft hand on his arm, and desperately did as he was bid. Expanding the ribcage, filling the crevices. _In_. Relaxing the ribcage, flowing from the body. _Out._

Somehow, it worked. The spasms subsided, the nausea receded. Not completely, but enough that he could straighten. Hermione’s hand reached up to his sweat-stained forehead, brushing aside his sticky fringe.

“Better?” she asked with a gentle smile. He managed a nod. She was pale despite her smile, and he felt a stab of worry. He loved her so much.

“Good,” McGonagall’s voice rang in. “Now please sit.” She gestured to the chairs the four of them had vacated what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Harry and Ginny took their seats, their fingers tightly intertwined. Hermione tugged at Ron’s sleeve, then sat. He rubbed his hurting eyelids and did the same, the chair creaking beneath him. Hermione’s hand snuck into the crook of his arm. He reached over and held on.

McGonagall’s lined face was pinched as she regarded them. “I trust you all realize that what just happened was _not_ what I intended when I shut you all in here. Such a thing has never happened before, in known history, and the wards on the room did not hold as true as I had hoped.” Her gaze fell to her wand, which lay quietly against the dark grain of her desk. “Or, of course, perhaps I was wrong about the spells in the first place.” She looked back at the four of them. “Regardless, you four handled yourselves very well, and for that I am immeasurably glad.

“I realize there might be some confusion about Ms. Weasley’s vision, and how you were able to put forth a single spell as separate people. We have done as much research as we could in such a short amount of time. This particular imagery is rather elusive, however, as it comes from one of the Americas’ ancient native cultures.” She opened a heavy drawer and withdrew what looked suspiciously like a small rubber duck.

Ron snorted. Then the professor tapped the yellow shape with her wand, and out sprang a piece of parchment. Ron gaped. “Professor Snape managed to obtain this from an unnamed source.” Fishing her glasses out of her robes and placing them on her nose, she read slowly.

"’Among the People, a child's first Teaching is of the Four Great Powers of the Medicine Wheel. To the North is found Wisdom.’ Miss Granger.” She glanced at Hermione over the rims of her glasses.

“’The South is the place of Innocence and Trust.’” Ron felt himself flush with confusion as she leveled her gaze at him momentarily.

“’The West is the Looks-Within Place, which speaks to our introspective Nature.’ Mr. Potter, I think you already are aware...” Harry’s jaw tightened when she looked towards him, and he nodded.

“’The East is the Place of Illumination, where we can see things clearly, far and wide....’ I would hazard you understand that one, Ms. Weasley.” A corner of Ginny’s mouth turned up as she met her teacher’s eyes.

Ron’s mouth hung slightly open, his eyebrows crinkled together, as he struggled to digest this information.

"’At birth,’” McGonagall continued, “’each of us is given a particular Beginning Place within these Four Great Directions. This Starting Place gives us our first way of perceiving things, which will then be our easiest and most natural way throughout our lives. But any person who perceives from only one of these Four Great Directions will remain a partial man.’"

She re-rolled the scroll and put it back in its hiding place with a tap of her wand. Her glasses slid down her nose as she peered at the four of them. “So you see?”

Hermione raised a trembling hand to her throat. “ _We’re_ the—the Directions Four? _We’re_ the ultimate weapon?”

McGonagall nodded. “Together, you can produce a spell more powerful than anything any one wizard can do on his own. That is the greatest weapon. Mr. Potter will not succeed without you three at his side. That’s what we assumed from the vision, and although I’m not pleased our negotiations with the Vampire community fell through so bleakly, this attack has proved our assumptions to be correct.”

Ron’s head pounded with the words she was saying, tumbling together in a messy, scary heap. It couldn’t—he wasn’t ready— _they_ weren’t ready. They were just kids.

But he felt Hermione’s fingers move over his gently, and somehow he knew, deep in his unsettled gut, that it was true. And that they had ceased being just kids a long time ago.

“This is only the beginning,” McGonagall continued, “as I’m sure you all have concluded on your own.” She tipped up her chin with a small shake. “It will only get more difficult, and we are depending on the four of you. You have something no one else can possibly have or understand, and it is up to you to use it for the best.”

Ron nearly snorted. Clearly, the woman was mad. _Use it for the best? Try ‘Use it to save the whole fucking world.’_

“The greatest weapon, the greatest defense you will ever have, is each other. Cherish that. Protect it. Don’t let other things, big or small, get in the way again.” Ron grimaced, shame creeping up on him. He saw Harry’s gaze fall for a moment. “And don’t ever, ever let it go.”

Hermione’s hand was firm in his, Harry’s shoulder solid beside him. Ron knew not much more than that.

“Because we need you,” she ended, her tone brokering no reservations or arguments.

Silence fell over them, pulsing with all sorts of fear and love and confusion. Ron certainly hadn’t a thing to say, he realized tiredly. He felt wrung out and left to dry. All he wanted to do was to pretend it was over, lie down, and go to sleep. Preferably beside Hermione after having a good shag, but he’d take what he could get.

He knew better, though, he thought grudgingly. It wasn’t anywhere near over.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to think about it any more today.

Harry finally spoke. “Professor, I—“ But he stopped. “Thank you.”

“Very soon, Mr. Potter, I shall be the one saying that to you.” She regarded him for a moment, warmth in her eyes, then cleared her throat. “That’s enough for now. We’ll need you in the finest possible shape come morning, so get to your dormitories.” Then she spoke very deliberately. “Take care of each other.” When no one responded, she zeroed in on Ron. “Do you hear me, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron blinked as she peered at him pointedly over her spectacles. _She can’t possibly mean—Can she?_ But as he continued to stare, he could’ve sworn the professor’s mouth curved upwards. Hermione’s clutch on his hand grew impossibly warm.

It boggled his mind, but-- _What the hell_ , he thought. After everything that had happened, nothing should have surprises him. He shot a half-grin at her. “Yes, Professor.”

She merely arched an eyebrow in response.

When no one said anything further, she nodded slightly, standing. “Goodnight.” They all stood and quietly shuffled out the door. “And, students,” she called after them, “Good luck.”

She smiled up at them, a rare but welcome sight. “I have great hope for you all.”


	17. Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits from watersedge1, _The Dark Crystal, Hook, Dogma_ , DindranesDefender’s _More Heart than Reason_ , ‘Tooms,’ _Garden State_ , and Ric. Smut warning applies.

After a silent but expectant walk, the four of them said quiet goodbyes at the top of the dormitory stairs.

Harry clasped Ron’s shoulder. “See you in the morning?” The other, unspoken question was as plain as the quiet uncertainty in his voice.

Ron met his eyes with a lingering bit of trepidation. Nothing but affection and sorrow shone back out of them, however, and the ache in his chest lightened considerably. He gave a weary smile and raised his own hand to Harry’s shoulder bracingly. “Bright and early, I expect.”

Ginny pulled Harry away and stood in front of her brother. “Alright?” she asked.

She looked up at him, this suddenly mysterious sister-seer of his, and he didn’t quite know how to answer. Everything seemed different now. Mutated. Uncharted. He knew her, always had, and yet didn’t quite know her anymore.

Somewhere during the years, she had become the wisest of the Weasleys, and it showed on her face if one looked closely enough. Her eyes themselves carried in them a pain that struck Ron as familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

With a flash of insight, he realized he saw that pain every day in Harry’s eyes. She had taken it upon herself, shared his burden, and was now inexorably entwined with him. Pride swelled up in him.

At her poke, he finally murmured an affirmative to her question. “Alright. You?”

“Alright. Goodnight, Weasley,” she kidded softly, and gave him a smile he couldn’t help but reciprocate. She reached for him and he held her tightly, her head tucked under his chin. The pressure in his chest eased off even more.

Together, they were alright.

Hermione embraced Ginny then, whispering something in her ear, and Ginny grinned at her, nodding. “I solemnly swear.” _I don’t even want to know,_ Ron thought with affection.

Then she reached for Harry and a lump formed in Ron’s throat. He watched as they said goodnight, but was surprised to feel only a dull hurt. And when she turned from Harry, reached for Ron’s hand and gave him a gloriously sweet smile, even that small pain receded far into the background.

 _Mine._

His fingers clenched around hers, and she tightened her grip in return. “Shall we?”

***

Her room seemed more cavernous than he remembered. She was through the door first, and after he stepped in, he didn’t know how best he should fill the space.

He stood awkwardly just inside the doorway while she went to her wardrobe and shed her outer robes. She retrieved her night things from a drawer and slipped into the loo after looking back at him with a small smile. “You should get ready for bed, Ron. We need sleep.”

His cheeks warmed. _Right._ He sat heavily on her bed and mechanically reached down to unlace his shoes. The muscles in his right shoulder protested, and suddenly he realized he ached everywhere.

He scowled and reached for the laces again. _Too bloody bad, Weasley,_ he chastised. _There’re bigger things to worry about now._

He managed to get off most of his clothing, perform a bit of a teeth-cleansing charm, and was turning back the covers when the bathroom door opened. He swallowed hard and turned, clad only his boxers—his _orange boxers_ —and a horrifyingly deep blush.

She let out a tired half-giggle at the sight, but immediately sobered up when she saw the look on his face. “Oh, Ronald.” She held out her hand, and he took it gladly, walking over to her.

With a gentle tug, she was in his arms.

It had been far too long, he realized as he breathed in the clean scent of her hair and felt her arms circle his waist. She exhaled and he felt the air leave his lungs as well, slowly, pleasingly. Emotion seeped up in him, surprising him with its quiet insistence. There was an ease inside of him that he couldn’t remember feeling since he was a small child.

He pulled back and kissed her on the forehead, a bit too wary to try anything else... even though he desperately wanted to. As tired as he was, the idea of getting undoing those fancy pyjamas held an undeniably immediate appeal.

“Come to bed?” he said after a moment. It came out sounding more unsure than he’d’ve liked, but he couldn’t help it. She was so stoic, standing there in her tasteful nightclothes, and he was so—gangly. Awkward. Weasley.

And so much had happened.

She surprised him by reaching up and pressing her lips up to his for a moment. Warmth tingled into his skin. “You go ahead,” she said softly. “I’ll only be a minute.”

She smiled, then moved away to sit at her dressing table. He watched as she began pulling a brush through her hopelessly tangled hair, cursorily assessing her reflection. She reminded him of a princess in a tall tower, an image that pleased him even as it alarmed him.

He couldn’t just leave her there and go to bed. It’d feel huge and empty without her, anyway.

He stepped towards the table, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. Her movements slowed, then stopped. Her eyes met his in the mirror and the worry there was so great that he had to swallow before he could speak. “It’ll be alright.”

She looked down, fiddling with her brush. “How can you be so sure?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I just know that we can’t go into it thinking anything less.”

She nodded after a moment, but her eyes stayed downcast. He was at loss, wanting to comfort her but completely unsure how to do it.

Her soft voice let him off the hook. “I just don’t understand.”

His brows drew together. She sounded so defeated, when they'd just won so many battles... “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t understand how they got in, for one.” Ron opened his mouth, then realized he didn’t know either. “I don’t understand why it’s happening so soon. I don’t understand how we’re supposed to defeat anyone as powerful as Voldemort with just—us.” She tucked her chin into her chest. “I don’t understand why it took you so long.”

It took a minute for the last bit to actually register.

Ron’s heart turned over in his chest. “Hermione...” She looked up at his reflection, and he was astonished to see tears in her eyes. His gut twisted.

“I’m so scared, Ron," she said quietly.

Something filled his chest like a swarm. "Oh, god..." he managed, his throat raw. He instinctively reached for her chair and pulled her up. "Come here." He folded her into his arms, her head just under his chin, where she could surely hear his heart beating too fast in his chest. "Me too. I've never been more scared in my life."

Her shoulders started to shake with the tears she was fighting, and he tightened his embrace, unable to do anything else. "But we can't keep thinking about it."

He felt a small giggle against him and looked down, pulling her back so he could see her face. "What?" He wiped the tears from under her eyes and down her cheeks, even swiping under her nose with the back of his hand. Another half-laugh, half-sob escaped her. "We can't. We have to just—you know. Do what we have to do."

Her face shined up at him. "I know. You're right. It's just that you're just such a Gryffindor. I'm surprised you don't bleed gold and scarlet."

This roused a chuckle from him. But her brow furrowed suddenly, and he frowned as she withdrew from his embrace. "What?"

"Well, it's just that..." She paused, putting the words together in her head. "For someone so heedlessly brave, it's illogical for you to have loved me and never told me.”

He couldn't help it; he smiled. “This stuff isn’t logical, Hermione."

She sniffed and stuck out her chin, obviously not pleased enough with that answer.

"Well, you're bloody scary sometimes, you know that? I didn't want to bollocks things up."

She still wasn't convinced. “That didn't stop you from going after a dozen other girls.”

His mouth twisted a bit caustically. "Well, when you want the one person you're sure you can't get, it's easy to lower your standards.” He thought of Harry and gave her a pointed look. “You know how that feels.”

Her jaw tightened with a rueful smile. “Yes, I suppose I do.” She sniffed again, casting about the room for something with which to wipe her nose. "I need a tissue."

He grinned lazily and held out his hand. "Here."

She looked from his hand to his face, and back to his hand, her eyes luminous. Then suddenly she was in his arms, kissing him with great enthusiasm. He found his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he very nearly lost his balance.

Luckily, he somehow managed to both kiss her back and guide them down onto the blankets without breaking anything vital.

She whispering something against his mouth he didn't understand, and he put a finger on her lips. "What was that? Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but—"

"I love you. That's all."

She said it simply, smiling at him, her hair tumbling down madly around her face and her nose red from crying. She looked absolutely disheveled, and he adored her anyways. "I love you, too." He was so utterly pleased, he couldn't help but chuckle. He kissed her swiftly so she wouldn't misinterpret his amusement. "You're beautiful, you know."

Her eyes widened with happiness, but she seemed hesitant. "I know you think so."

He paused, surprised. "But you don't agree?"

She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "Well, most women don't look in a mirror and see something they like."

"And you, Hermione Granger, are _not_ most women."

She blinked. "Right. Well, don't expect me to be able to marvel at my own beauty, that's all I'm saying."

"A shame, really, as I do it all the time." She smirked at him and he arched an eyebrow at her. "The dreams I have had about you…" He whistled lowly. She rolled her eyes and he instantly touched her chin with his finger. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever come into contact with.” He looked at her steadily. “There are millions of women out there, but you’re the only one I want to make love to."

Her face softened and he thought he saw tears start to shine in her eyes again—but didn’t have time to confirm his suspicions, as she swiftly brought her lips to his and sneaked her tongue in to volley with his own. Want coursed through him and he kissed her back with all his might.

When the kiss ended, he felt her hand soft on his cheek. “I do wish it had been you.”

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. Air reached his lungs suddenly and he couldn’t keep himself from kissing her, or from running his hands up and down her delicious body. She made a contented noise as his tongue softly danced with hers.

She began to touch him eagerly, lovingly, running her hands up and down his chest, as his hands sneaked under the hem of her pyjama top to stroke across her smooth skin. His fingers enjoyed their path thoroughly. He felt his mind float away on a cloud of hazy want–-want of nothing but the woman in front of him.

He couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch her first, so his hands skidded over her whole form as his tongue tangled with hers. He touched all the skin he could find, haphazardly pushing back her clothes and undoing whatever buttons he came across, gently pushing her onto her back so he had free reign. She shuddered against his hands, her body twisting with pleasure, and he felt anticipation rush through his body like a fever.

“Ron,” she breathed against his lips, “you're…” She tugged at his one remaining bit of clothing. He planted a wet kiss on her, then slid off the bed.

Trying to keep composure while divesting himself of the loud boxers very nearly worked, too. He stumbled a bit near the end and reddened, barely having the courage to meet her eyes.

Hermione stifled a laugh from where she lay perched on her side. “Nicely done." She smiled up at him cheekily, her lips reddened from kissing, and he had to suppress the urge to skip all the niceties and get right to it.

He got back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss her. She kissed him back so tenderly that a new want filled him, a desire to see her pleased, mingling with and enhancing his own desire for release.

He broke off and looked at her, his hand softly tangled in her hair. She raised an eyebrow slightly in question. He leaned forward and put his lips next to her ear. “What do you want?”

She trembled slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, and her grip on his arm tightened.

He felt her breath warm on his cheek. “What are you offering?” He pulled back and threw a challenging look at her, never breaking her gaze as he slipped his hand into her pyjamas to brazenly explore her dampness. She took in a quick breath. “I suppose I’ll— oh, god--” His fingers had reached their destination and her head tilted back for a moment. “—have to take you up on that.”

He smiled wickedly and set to work on the buttons of her top, fumbling a bit when she bent towards him and kissed him intently, sweeping his bottom lip with her tongue and sending fire through his veins. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “Stop that, I need to concentrate.”

The corner of her mouth turned up and she raised her hands in acquiescence. “By all means.” She settled back against the pillows with amusement on her lips. “Go on.”

He was caught for a moment by the picture of her: laid up like royalty, her top half-undone and her hair wild around her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Want something?”

Her words brought his senses back to him, and he focused on the task at hand. He moved to settle on his knees beside her, very interested in the last little button between him and her breasts. He met her eyes again, his hands poised against the fabric. “May I?”

She laughed and pressed her lips against his reassuringly. “Honestly, Ron, what do you think?” She covered his hands with her own and pressed them into motion. The button slid out easily and he unconsciously held his breath as he pushed the top off her body.

 _Just bloody beautiful._

He trailed his fingers in soft figure-eights around her breasts, memorizing the texture of them. She let out a soft sound of pleasure and he kissed her eagerly, exploring her mouth while his hand explored her body. He reached a nipple and she whimpered softly into his mouth. More of that, he decided.

He broke the kiss and looked at her with a smile on his lips. “Is this what you want?” He slowly ran his finger around the sensitive skin, leaning in to kiss her earlobe briefly. “Because I could do this for hours.” He trailed kisses down her throat, his fingers continuing their movements on her breasts.

She breathed out audibly. “Go on.”

He chuckled against her skin, making his way towards his first goal. Her skin tasted like water and salt and soap and Hermione. And he couldn’t get enough of it.

There was something unerringly fascinating about her breasts, Ron surmised as he investigated them with his fingertips. The colours were brilliant, pale pinks and rich rouges, with little ridges and wrinkles like the surface of an unknown planet. He made his way languidly to the very tips of them, enjoying the way her body responded, as the skin puckered and her lips parted.

Her hands ran over his back, skimming his shoulders and burying themselves tightly in his hair as he put his lips to the now-pebbled skin. He whirled his tongue around it, glorying in the small desperate noises she made. He felt oddly powerful, bowing down to this woman in such a way, and moved his mouth slowly across her breasts, wanting to draw it out as long as possible.

Her breathing was noticeably shallow and she clutched at his hair fitfully. “Ron–please–”

He raised his head and gave her an innocent look. “Yes?”

Her mouth opened wordlessly, then her eyes narrowed and she pulled him up to kiss him, sliding her tongue against his shamelessly. His body pushed against hers against his own volition. “You’re such a tease,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just–” She ran a hand down his arm and arched into him. “…please…”

He kissed her back, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. “Absolutely.”

He slid down her body, trailing his lips down the sides of her breasts to her ribcage, then to the gentle curve of her hip. She squirmed a little and he smiled, reaching the skin of her inner thigh. His kisses were light but full of intent.

He tasted her slowly, hearing a breathy moan escape her. She tasted different this time, he mused, or perhaps it was just the new sense of possession. Knowing that she loved him. Had always loved him.

He ran his tongue over her repeatedly, smoothing his hands lightly up and down the backs of her thighs, and her breath started to come in gasps. The sounds she made were intoxicating and he started to feel light-headed. He upped his pace, wanting to hear more, and slipped two fingers inside her.

“Oh god,” she whimpered. “Please…oh…” And with a long moan she arched into him, her body shaking with pleasure. He slowed but didn’t stop, gently staying with her until she fell back against the bed with a small noise of contentment.

He smiled, sliding up the bed to kiss her softly. The combined tastes set his heart rate up a notch and he reached for her. She wove her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, and turned her body to his, capturing him by settling a thigh over his hip, putting him startlingly close to her.

His lips slid away from hers with a groan. “Hermione…”

She pushed her hips into him, moving in a slow circle. “Yes?”

He locked eyes with her, searching. Want melted through him at the absolute desire he saw there, and without another thought, he entered her. Her lips parted with a gasp and he cried out at the sensation of being so surrounded. Warmth spread over his body and he reached for her, sliding his arm around her waist and kissing her fervently. She made a soft sound into his mouth as he pulled back and pushed in again.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against her, closing his eyes and moving in and out of her slowly, his jaw tightening as sensations piled upon themselves. He could feel her fingers on his back, urging him on, and his hips moved faster, his throat dry and his skin prickling with sweat. Heat flooded his body and pleasure curled tightly in his belly.

He mumbled her name over and over, thrusting into her warm body unevenly, relentlessly seeking release. Then suddenly he was there, his body shaking and his blood roaring in his ears. It felt like he was pouring his very soul into her and a wordless shout spilled from his lips.

Moments later, he realized he could feel her fingers traveling lazily up and down his back, and felt a light kiss on his lips. “I do so love you,” she said softly.

The words fluttered across his mouth and his eyes flew open. He swallowed. “I love you too.” He wanted to say something more, to tell her exactly how it felt to be in love with her, but his body and mind felt like they’d been through the wash and he couldn’t think properly.

“I know,” she whispered, her finger caressing his cheek. Focused on the feeling of her skin, his eyes drifted shut again, much to his chagrin.

But she was settling in next to him, tucking the covers around them, so he folded his body alongside hers and let himself relax. "G'night, 'erm'ne," he managed.

Her body was warm and comforting, her voice so very soft. "Goodnight, my Ronald."

 _Together, we’re alright..._ His lips curved into a contented smile and sleep rolled over him.

 ****

fin


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